


Reanimating the Evil Dead

by DrByron



Category: Army of Darkness (1992), Evil Dead (1981), Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types, Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: Alcohol, Asexual Character, Body Horror, Crossover, Deadites, Emotional Manipulation, Humor, Kinks, Lovecraftian, M/M, Masturbation, Monsters, Multi, Polyamory, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Threesome, Violence against monsters, canonical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrByron/pseuds/DrByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in hip 1990, Ash Williams makes his way to Miskatonic University Library in Massachusetts, in order to destroy a copy of the Necronomicon Ex Mortis. Besides finding a city that rivals the book in weirdness, he also makes aquaintance with a pair of questionably well-intended student scientists that appear to be more involved than they themselves initially knew.</p><p>A kinky 80s Horror Crossover!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dingy Motel Rooms Make For The Most Frustrating Sexcapades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash makes his way to Arkham, but has to crash at a motel before jumping into action. What he didn't see coming was that he wouldn't spend the night alone.  
> (POV: Ash Williams)

Things were looking up for humble old me, as the 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 managed to get me to my goal, without breaking down more than two times. Fair enough, this was Classic No2, since I lost the old one sometime in the middle ages. And that is not a metaphor. Same jalopy, it's like the series is cursed. Perfect for me.  
The eleven hour drive from Michigan to Massachusetts was a cheap price to pay for potentially ridding the world of all evil forever. I'm not joking, this is literally what I'm doing.

You see, by now, it's like I'm looking for Carmen Sandiego, because where in the world is the Ne-cro-nom-i-con-o? Sadly, I'm not hunting down some sexy spandex chick. Would make the whole deal a whole lot more rewarding, you get my drift? I'd like to see that one escape in front of my eyes. But the Necronomicon Ex Mortis is just some ancient magic book filled with curses that could bring about the apocalypse if read by the wrong person. Any person, actually. Bound in leather made of human skin, brown and wrinkly, like granny's Florida-tanned ass. Not a babe I'd like to look for. Got a nasty set of teeth and a little to much vigor too. Did I mention there's more than one, in more than one language? Yeah, great. But I didn't choose the Chosen One Life, the Chosen One Life chose me. So even 3 years after some weird incidents you'd never believe me anyway, I'm talking ghost-demon-zombies, possessed furniture and time traveling weird, I'm still this vagabond of a lonesome hero, trying to be where the party is at, and majorly crash it. Saving the world is my business. And trying to get by working at local S-Marts to earn a buck or two. Good thing they're like all around the nation, and not only in Dearborn, MI, where I'd much rather be by the way. Oh, name's Ash J. Williams. I work in housewares.

The city limits seemed inviting enough, Welcome to Arkham, Essex County, Massachusetts. New England beauty, old-fashioned and as historical as the USA gets. But the city had printed some weird reports in the newspapers lately, and it's either prank season or I don't know what. Hard to miss headlines like "Invisible giant creature with thousand eyes seen around campus", however you 'see' an 'invisible' thing in the first place. Or "Black be-tantcled black cloud witnessed to have swallowed children". The folks either got a talent for breaking mirrors, and really out of luck, or they're all a bunch of loonies running amok. Or there's something else going on here. And I've seen enough to not exclude the latter. Upon brief research (really, it was right there on the flyer), I found that Miskatonic University library is known to have the biggest collection of occult literature. So I know where I'm heading next, looking for an occult book and all.

I managed the whole trip within a day, and I thought, why waste time, let's get it over with. 10pm seemed reasonable enough for a library to still be open for nerdy overachievers, and Miskatonic U was like some high-brow Ivy League deal, so, nerds-only club. Upon arrival, I realized they might be the type of 'in bed by 8, tucked in by mommy' nerd, because the building had the nerve to be closed already. Well, time to take it like a man, and get a cheap motel room for the night. Hopefully without any mutated cockroach monsters which would love to nibble on unsuspecting tourists.

My price category of a motel offered me oak walls, oak everything, grey velour carpet, stained and pale blue beddings and a painfully out-of-place orange armchair made of smoothed geometric shapes, standing in the corner. Looked like they hadn't had any need to redecorate since the 70s, and I was a-ok with that. The flickering light of the bedside lamp couldn't properly heat up anymore, so it decreased the smell of a once majorly burnt lampshade to the minimum. As long as I could get some shut-eye, I didn't even mind that part of the sheets had partly been eaten by moths and partly eroded by some or other kinds of fluids. As long as I could get some shut-eye. The noise of the street and my own thoughts made it harder than I wanted to. Ah what the heck, this bed had enough stains as it is.

Sliding up and down, steady but firm, with enough room for a little crescendo. It took some time getting used to left-hand wanking, and it never really was the same after I had lost Mrs Right. I'm talking about my hand here. You can't masturbate much with a wrist only. Sure, you can rub it, squeeze it, bop it, but I always was one for an all-round grip and the creative use of every single finger, you know, I don't just want to rub myself against a flesh pillar like a horny dog. My left hand tries to imitate what I used to like, sliding fingertips along the underside of my shaft, to get a kind of nubby sensation. When I'd be hard enough, I can go a little faster, tighten my fingers around Boomstick Jr, and it wasn't quite it, but it was pretty good, and better than nothing. There was something like electrical prickling coming from my center, spreading in my abdomen, and paralyzing my limbs with pleasure. Right up to my toes and fingertips. This tired old body was getting tense and afire and I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead and moisture between my fingers and thighs. And I should have kept down the grunting, motel walls are made of paper. It's not easy finding a woman when you're constantly on the move, chasing after a mysterious perpetuum mobile of a book. This was all I got. Sneaky, pathetic, all alone, and sorta cold. Don't get me wrong, masturbation isn't pathetic, it was my feelings during it. It just got so damn lonely. Was it so unrealistic to dream of some classic heroism, a kiss as a reward, and a warm chest pressing against mine? And maybe a little more? Just somebody to fight for, instead of just surviving and trying to stop general destruction. Yeah, sure, I'm so altruistic, I didn't even know half the people I ended up saving or losing. But maybe it was better that way, because in the end, everybody dies. To get back to the subject at hand, I increased the speed of my movements, pumping the shaft to rub the thoughts away. I pressed my head into the badly fluffed pillow and groaned with frustration. Come on, Ash, this is nice and comfortable, so shut the hell up. With closed eyes, it almost felt as if it wasn't my clumsy, left hand. I could imagine it was the other one, or maybe even both. Back in the days, I used to use both, sometimes, and oh boy, that was a party for three. Just thinking of it made the little man twitch with happy memories. The growing oversensitivity made the second hand almost feel real. Hmm yeah, move it. This way, I could imagine there was another one in bed, helping me out. A cute bombshell, hungry for the legendary Williams' dick (trademark). But to be frank, the hand felt a tad too big to be a ladies' hand. Huh, it actually felt too big. And it definitely didn't move how I imagined it to do. Go slow? And here it went faster. Go fast? It stopped. But it was still there. This may not have been my imagination, after all. I shot up like from a nightmare, and stared next to me, half expecting to find I was hallucinating things as I sometimes do. But to my horror, there in fact was something. Somebody. My body, but not quite. I needed a moment to realize that I wasn't looking into a mirror, because he smirked, and I sure as hell didn't.

"Why did you stop? We were just getting to the fun part." My evil Deadite duplicate was all there, physically lying next to me in bed. Probably naked, because I was too, and I did not intend to lift the sheets. I sprang up and covered myself with enough blanket to hide my good bits. This look he was sporting, my look, was a rather handsome alternative to him going more Deadite, sure. I'd still rather not share my bed with a nude demon with a predatory smile. While being nude, you know. Not a good combo.  
"I don't know your Deadite policies on intimacy, pal, but this is a little off-the-border for human standards." The only thing that stopped me from choking that Deadite bastard was the knowledge that it would become this big deal, and no matter the outcome, he would manage to pull some stunt to still exist inside of me. He had been gone before. I had defeated him. There was that time where he'd been independent from me, own body and everything, and he had gathered himself an Army of Undead for an epic war of Good vs Evil. Or at least Lesser Evil vs Greater Evil. The lesser evil won alright, and that would be my side, but that was only a temporary victory.  
Over time, it's become kinda like having an annoying roommate in your head. The kind that brings home hooligan friends and drugs you into playing along. It was better to avoid fighting, or contact, as much as possible, and just deal with it.  
"How can we be more intimate than sharing a body?", he argued. And I realized again that he must had observed me doing the deed. I know it had happened before, but I still hate it as much as the first time.  
"I don't think I've expanded any boundaries here. Whenever you touch your dick, I touch it too, just now, it's way more interesting for you." He reached out for my raw cock underneath the blanket, and I tried to fend him off.  
"Hold on there buddy, what's the hook? I think I'd remember if we were fiends-with-benefits, and I don't, so this is a bit off-putting. I'm… I'm not really into men, so, yeah, not happening. Not into Deadites either."  
"You keep telling yourself that, pal" He was horrible at using hip words, unlike me. They come easy for me. "I thought you were desperate enough to finally drop that idea."  
"No, I'm not desperate enough. Hey! I'm not desperate at all! This masturbation deal is wholesome human behavior, and I am very okay. You got that?"  
"Do you really believe that you're ok? Every woman you get to know ends up getting killed..."  
"...by Kandarian demons, I know, hard to miss that. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Please, could you leave me alone?"  
"You're responsible for the death of every girl you sleep with. And more. By now, I wouldn't be surprised if you actively started avoiding ever finding what you call love. Or finding love with a woman. I mean, not every man has died, am I right?"  
This was not the conversation I was planning to have that night.  
"So what? I'm just a dangerous man! Women know that, and women like that, and they accept it too. I'm doing an awful lot of saving, by the by. Besides, what does that have to do with you know?"  
He ripped the bed spread from our bodies and I might have shrieked like a little bitch. Kicking in defense, I accidentally pushed myself off the bed and landed back-first on the floor. He wasn't even trying to get closer, but just chuckled on top of the bed, probably feeling like a king. I still covered my private parts with my one good hand. "Jesus, can we have this conversation with my clothes on, please? And yours too, if you don't mind."  
"Don't you like what you see, Ash?" He presented himself, and I could only see his upper body from my point of view, but it sure was a nice view. I had worked hard to get those abs, and I think he wasn't affected by my eating habits as much as I was.  
"Sure, if that was what I see in a mirror." I rubbed my eyes and sighed with frustration. Upon opening them, I realized he was lying next to me, in the same less-than-dignified position as me, with feet still on the bed and the back on the cold hard floor. I might have shrieked again.  
"Alright, so the situation is this, you're offering some kind of sexual thing here, right?", I tried to clarify.  
"Does it sound so strange to you that a Deadite might be enjoying sexual practices? Isn't it quite well-known that rituals for demonic summonings all include a good round of fucking? I've stuck with you a little too long, you've robbed me of all the action." It almost sounded like I was the bad guy here, and that he was the victim. I sure as hell never asked for his presence.  
"Alright, I see that, fair enough." I stared at the ceiling, and I could feel how he faintly stroked his index finger along my now flaccid dick. I couldn't help but chuckle a little and cock an eyebrow, as it surely wasn't feeling all that bad.  
"Okay then, why should I trust you, wise guy?"  
"Have you trusted every woman you ever slept with?" His Williams' hand sneakily wrapped around my shaft and it felt familiar.  
"Of course I did." I did nothing to stop him.  
"Really?" His grip tightened and I flinched.  
"Well, okay, maybe not aaaall of them. But at least they weren't a demonic creature from hell. It took you three years to make a move, are you shy or something? Or is this some weird ritual you can only execute in a weirdass place like Arkham?"  
The face of my evil Deadite double distorted into a snarky grin that probably just killed a few kittens, and his hold on my dick was getting agonizingly possessive. "I have an insight into your mind that you don't even want to have. Do you really believe all the lies you tell yourself? You are ready now, Ash, and that's all that changed. You're ready to have your mind blown by someone like me." And even though I couldn't quite buy that excuse, and just knew that there was something dangerous behind his sudden change of interests, I decided to not follow the premonition. I thought, ah what the heck, lost my last bit of dignity, and just started to enjoy myself. I placed my hand on his and started to move them in regular strokes.  
"Ready to have my dick blown? Oh, I was born ready for that, you should've called sooner." According to his face, he didn't enjoy my humor as much as I did. He tugged my legs of the bed, pinning me to the ground. "Okay, bring it on, baby, I'll see if you're oh so mind-blowing.", I challenged him, heading in for a kiss.  
He slapped his palm onto my mouth and pushed me down, shaking his head, smiling from on top of me. His eyes looked just like mine, just a tad more on the evil Kandarian demon side, faintly milky and diseased, but not too much to be off-putting. It kind of was like getting dominated by myself, and that felt pretty damn right on many levels. There were two wholesome Ash Williams hands going at my cock now, and they knew what they were doing. My own single hand, though, explored this handsome hunk's chest, waist and ass. So that's how it feels like, not all that bad, I congratulated myself.  
"Hey.", I wheezed, "This is like masturbation, right? Since you're me and I'm you and there's not really two genetically different people involved. Nothing homosexual about that, right?"  
"Sure." His mouth darted to my crotch like he had practiced this, and who am I to assume he hasn't. So, this is what it felt like to get a blowjob from me. What I wouldn't have done, but what he did, was to lift my hips, hook his arms underneath my thighs, and push me into the strangest angle. Which was a fantastic angle.  
I could feel my pelvis bucking helplessly, so used to not getting blowjobs anymore, that it absolutely overwhelmed me. "Babe, this is a mean mouth you got there, ohhh…"  
The short prick of teeth probably meant that I wasn't supposed to call him that, so I shut my mouth. This wasn't a risk I was going to take for a stupid nickname. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked my saluting soldier in. His head bobbed up and down way too fast and way too early on. There was no buildup, no passion, almost like he was trying to set my dick on fire. Did I hear him hissing? I couldn't complain though, as I surely didn't intend to turn this into some romantic fling. Just a quick release, and that would be it, to get him to leave, and to cheer me up a little. No matter how arousing the warm moisture around my erection was, I couldn't bring myself to look at him for too long. It still was my own face, and damn, that was fucking weird. I turned my head and squeezed my eyes shut, panting, trembling, and getting increasingly nervous. "You- ooh- try to not rip my dick off, yeah?"  
He gave my raw, throbbing cock a quick lick and a welcome break. "Don't worry. I'll try to not let you bleed to death yet."  
I laughed awkwardly, he laughed sardonically. We laughed at one another. I clenched my teeth, rolled my tired eyes back into my head and let him continue. Couldn't suppress a grunt when the bastard ignored my previous worry and frantically grinded his palate against my boner, teeth awfully close to the skin. It was damn hard to object. He slapped my hand away whenever I tried to grab his hair, so I accepted those terms too. By then, I was so close I felt like I could explode into his mouth at any second, and I guess every neighbor knew that by now as well. Shaking from arousal, I never noticed when exactly he pushed a finger into where the sun never shines. Make that two fingers. Turned out having your ass fingered didn't feel as bad as I initially expected, but maybe that was because I was so deep into this already, and would've accepted about anything as a next step.  
"Ahh, damn, this is… really something! Whew!" The floor didn't give me anything to grab, so I held onto the nearest bed post, and held on for my life. It was so much easier to forget specific circumstances when your partner was fairly quiet for a while (for a change). My body was filled to the brim with pleasure and joy, and it was starting to become a spiritual experience.  
Of course I whined when he decided to stop without a warning.  
"You son of a bitch! I mean-… oh, hey, little break, huh? I'd sure be happy if-…"  
"You want more?" It was an offering.  
"Yes, siree, I'd like that very much." I laughed and sat up, ready to try myself some Deadite ass.  
"Well then turn around" ,he hissed. His eyes had gone entirely white and his skin looked pretty damn unhealthy. The dark circles under his empty eyes would make every sleep-deprived teen's jaw drop.They weren't bruised, they were rust red, as if there was a rotting effusion of blood underneath. There were popped pustules of skin loose on his greyish sunken-in face.  
"Wait, what" So I was turnt around, so I my face went flat against the floor, and I could feel the tip of his prick prodding my entrance like a gun to my head. Not sure how it looked, in comparison to his face, and I wasn't eager to find out.  
"I asked, do you want more?" The Deadite voice was screeching, distorted and less than sexy, but Boomstick Jr was the pilot now, and I really, really wanted to come. It could have been any hag now, so it might as well be him.  
"Damn yeah! I'm terrible at taking the tease. We can give each other hand jobs, move the thing to the bed, or I don't even know. I can even tolerate your face, if it matters to you."  
"You get this. Sounds good to you?" Him slightly bending forward spoke a pretty straightforward language.  
"Whoah, I'm a virgin down there, buddy." He pushed in. I groaned and shivered and got such a hellish kick out of it that it should've been an illegal move in football.  
"Well, I WAS a virgin down there!" And I was pretty damn fine with that. After all, little Ash had quite a blast, with his prostrate pal joining the party. I was a mess of heavy breathing and rolling eyes.  
"Hey, could you, maybe- ah- wow… this isn't so bad, actually. Just a little to the left, maybe?" I weakly lifted my hips against his now steady, hard thrusts. Swayed to the left, and to the right, until I gave that deep, raspy sigh, that said: "Oh yeah, there. Oh baby…" My evil twin slapped my hip, rammed himself deeper into me, and bend down to breathe against my neck. "Can't you be as quiet as you are when masturbating? Your voice is getting on my nerves."  
I gave him a quick thumbs up and shut my mouth. Not that I could put anything coherent together anymore. With his hand against my nape, my face was pressed into the fuzzy velour ground, and the pathetic squeak I uttered with my orgasm was muffled a little. Thank god.  
It was over, I was done with, and the ugly carpet now had an ugly stain more. I collapsed and was slightly freaked how fulfilling it had felt, all puns aside.

I was pretty sure he hadn't come, I mean I wasn't an expert at getting it up the ass, but shouldn't there be some discharge or something? He never showed any typical signs of a male (or female) orgasm either, so I sure was confused when he simply slumped against my back and left it at that.  
"Hey, umh, if you're not there yet, you can… move a little more, if you want to. Go ahead."  
"Oh, I'm more than satisfied, Ash…"  
His cheek rubbed against my sweaty back, and that almost seemed a little cute, if it hadn't been him. But when I tried to turn around, I realized that he wasn't just close and in the mood for a bit of cuddling. He was stuck to me. I could feel his rotting cheek stretch inhumanely when I moved too much.  
"Ohh no…" I groaned and it went over into wet, distorted slurping noises, the sounds of bubbles popping, coming from behind my back. There was a sudden excruciating pain, and I don't mean sex pain, like in my slightly underprepared ass. More like as if the muscles on my back were getting ripped out in pieces, barbecued, salted and then sewn back on again. The fucker had melted into me, and except for a sore back, a sore cock, and a sore ass, I was left with nothing. Maybe a car alarm across the street, but how the heck am I supposed to spoon with that. The floor was cold and wet with my own sweat. Well, the cost of masturbation, you never get to spoon anybody but your sweat-soaked pillow.


	2. Miskatonic U Library has a Strict No-Strangers-Policy, the Students don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash tries to check out the Necronomicon from the Miskatonic University library, but finds out that he needs a back-up plan to be allowed to. His attempts may not lead him to the book right away, but at least to a med student who seems to empathize with some of his worries.  
> (POV: Ash Williams)

So the next high noon, I was walking down the aisles of Miskatonic U cafeteria, strutting like a cowboy fresh from the rodeo. Clicking my tongue to the left, giving a nod and a wink to the right, a "Hey there buddy!" to the front, and, tuuurning around, a casual "See ya later then!". Nobody assumed that my suave walk came from hellishly sore muscles and a night that was the stuff of wet nightmares. I sat down to give my unsteady legs some rest, and the lonely cute brunette didn't seem to mind hunky old me joining her at the table. I was wearing a college sweater and reading glasses from the gas station. This was my disguise. This was my plan B. Plan A was the following: Walk into the library, check out the book, destroy it, and off to Buenos Aires (as their library has the next Necronomicon on my list). Buenos Aires, man, that's like a paid holiday. You have to make the best of what life gives to you, so when I'm getting lemons, I'm getting a round of tequila with it. Buenos Aires, the city of la Boca chicas, tango-dancing in the streets, the city of soccer games. Or maybe even tango chicks watching soccer games. With me. But that would have been too nice, wouldn't it? For some reason the librarian didn't quite understand my straight words 'I have to destroy this demonic magic book in order to rid the world of a certain zombie apocalypse'. Then again, maybe these librarians only understand aggressive shushing noises, as he sure as hell only knew how to use those. Cut to me being 'gently' abducted to the chief librarian's office. Who knew they'd have such high security in a building full of wrinkly old books. There I met some guy named Dr. Army Touch, or Armitage?, or whatever, who at least was capable of the English language. The chief librarian welcomed me with a shriek, about 'Leaving the gods in their eternal slumber' and groaning 'I can't deal with this again'. So in short, I got a house ban, and they increased security at nights too. So breaking in would mean a very likely entry on my crime record, and more of a hassle than just finding a student to rent the book for me. Apparently, strangers aren't allowed to get temporary library passes for the occult literature reading rooms anymore, and only students and university staff were allowed to take a peek. So I never even got so far as a look at the damn thing.  
So this was my plan B, finding a student to get the Necronomicon for me.  
"So, honey, what's your major? Cutie-o-logy?" I faintly puckered my lips and raised my eyebrows to direct her attention towards my face. I leaned in, to direct her attention towards my abs. That cutie-patootie, all-lines-and-angles, with a top of auburn bobbed hair. She looked at me with her black eyes only, the rest of the body focused on some novel and her meal.  
"I study politics, actually. And what is your major, big boy? A degree in pick-up-artistry?"  
Well look at that, the smart type. Hopefully she was smart enough to help me.  
"Well, I wish. I wouldn't have any trouble with that major, for sure…"  
"Is that so." The book seemed endlessly more interesting than me, and she was probably starting to pity me already, but this was better than nothing.  
"Yeah, I mean, literature, what was I thinking when I chose that major. Here I thought, hey, pick something interesting, where you get to see a lot of the world. Books usually describe… different… things. But exams? I'm almost dyslexic! I could really need some tutoring sometime…" The Williams' eyebrow cocking (trademark), with a dash of the Williams' grin (trademark).  
"Is that supposed to be attractive to me?" She laughed, and I was sure she was secretly into dumb boys that value her for her brains. So I played along.  
"No, well, actually, just listen, okay? I'm just really desperate. I need to get this book from the library, you see, the Necronomicon Ex Mortis. For a paper on magic books."  
"A paper on Grimoires?"  
"Sure, uh, gesundheit."  
"No, Grimoires, textbooks on magic, with instructions on spells, summonings, creating magical objects, and so on."  
"Yeah, right, these things. I got thrown out of the library and now I can't get in again. Let's say I… was a bit of a bad boy. Apparently, they don't like it when you have too much fun reading. Could you help me out, maybe?"  
"That sounds tempting…" She leaned in closer and her breasts squeezed against the table. "…but you're not wearing a Miskatonic University sweater, that one is from UMass. And these glasses are reading glasses from the gas station down the street. This is a costume. So… are you a literature thief? A psychopathic vandal? Or do you belong to a secret society?" Her eyes started to sparkle as if this was every Miskatonic U girl's wet dream, to find a handsome necromancer to show her the glorious world of undead sex orgies.  
"I, umh, no… well… I need to save the world by destroying the book, because it's dangerous." Truth had become the last emergency plan those days.  
"Well, good luck with that. Nobody can check it out. There's been too many incidents, so you need a super special permit. You can give up right away."  
She laughed, stood up, and ruffled my hair like I was some little boy. I hated to see her go that way, but at least I got my hair ruffled.  
Guess there was only one option left for me. Getting a new job. At Miskatonic University. I should be able to figure out a way to get the book out of its secret reading room, just as long as I find a way in first.

"Let's say I needed the job… and guinea pig was the only one I qualified for." I downed my whiskey on the rocks in one gulp, tapping my left-hand fingers to the rhythm of Deee-Lite's 'Groove is In The Heart'. With a slow 360° turn of my nodding head, I checked out the location behind me. While turning my body of course, this isn't The Exorcist. Here we had an upscale bar with lots of black leather, grey tiled floor and walls, and the usual neon. Neon lights, neon decoration, not a big change from the medical institute. The only difference was less light for all the more atmosphere, and everything neon was yellow, orange, golden. I felt like I was burning a fortune just by sitting here, everything drowned in gold and champagne colors. Still, it retained the low-brow bar charm, so I was able to blend right in. Apparently, this was the place for aspiring doctors, politicians and other Ivy league nerds to wet their whistles and maybe, if their lucky, some other parts too. Some place called 'Pavlov's Bell'.  
"You mean a position as a study participant for the medical institute?"  
"Sure, study participant, guinea pig, same same." I wouldn't even be in here if it wasn't for this guy named Daniel Cain, sensitive type medical graduate student, who had been the instructor of the testing group I was assigned to. So basically, he had asked me some questions about my eating habits, then watched me run on a treadmill till I sweated like a pig and noted numbers about my heartbeat and blood-oxygen-levels and what the hell do I know. An easy buck and not even any pills to swallow (as of yet). The only bother was that running until I was all soaked in my own juices, but I guess that inspired this nice guy to invite me to a drink. Could have been my fantastic jokes and masculine charm too, who knows, but there we were. Watching girls, getting drunk, pretending. This was the holiday I granted myself.  
"What do you normally do? Aren't we around the same age?" He sipped on his apple daiquiri girls' drink and watched the ladies around us as much as I did. Difference was, he was subtle about it.  
"I did study Engineering at Michigan State, but then a family tragedy happened and I couldn't finish the degree. I've been between jobs ever since then."  
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Did you ever consider a scholarship to be able to fund it on your own?"  
"I never was the college type anyway. I'm more… practical." I said vaguely.  
"There is nothing wrong with that. I think I could use some more practical friends." He chuckled into his drink, but it wasn't really the happy-go-lucky type. It sounded like a desperate plead along the lines of 'I have an abusive girlfriend at home and none of my friends want to save me from her'. I know that chuckle.  
"Tell me about it, pal. I've known people so impractical, I couldn't bring them anywhere without having to play their babysitter all the time. A real fucking brag, that's what those people are."  
"I know what you mean. I've gotten to know very 'theoretical people' at Miskatonic University Medical Institute. You could even say their approach to life is almost… unrealistic? It's all theories and science with them, and as soon as it's about practice, I'm the only one who's trying to save the situation. It's a little too much for just one man, sometimes…"  
The doctor sighed like he came straight out of a hospital soap opera and I knew he needed cheering up.  
"Sounds like you could need some 'practicality'. Look, that chick over there, right? She looks like a babe, why don't you try it."  
He smiled in polite refusal, but I weren't giving up on this yet.  
"How about this: The man who gets the most telephone numbers wins a drink, and we might both go home with some new 'experiment' for our 'studies'."  
"Oh, I don't really play love as a competition…"  
"You like women?"  
"…Yes, I like women. But it's been a little complicated, so I don't know if I want to be looking for love tonight… I had hoped to just have a drink with a… man." The guy was acting all shy and sensitive, and I knew how to handle those, and awaken their sense of manliness.  
"Well this isn't love, buddy, this is plain old fun and some healthy men's rivalry. No expectations, nothing to lose. What do you say? Just for fun's sake."  
"Well… alright. But I'm not doing this on a regular basis, so you probably already won." He chuckled, acting all humble, leaving me in the belief of a certain victory.  
An hour later, at the end of the game, I returned with 2 numbers. Which turned out to be fake. This Dan guy, on the other hand, managed to get one at least. And this one was for real, real number, real girl, real pretty and smart too. That night, we were both just really sorry excuses for Casanovas, but he didn't even seem to mind.  
"Well fuck me. Guess the ladies love themselves a doctor, huh? Well that sure wasn't fair play." But I wasn't gonna be a sore loser, after all, I had a job now, and a few luxurious extra bucks to spend. I ordered him a double whiskey on the rocks. "It's on me, doctor. With the whiskey dick you'll be getting from this, we should be on par again." By now, there was Alannah Myle's raunchy 'Black Velvet' on the stereo, booming through the bar. There were couples and soon-to-be-regretted one-night-stands slow-grinding against one another and it was getting too hot for me. "Come on, drink up. Leads head out, I need a bit of fresh air." He hurriedly downed the drink without missing a beat.

Outside, he groaned in agony. "Ugh, this is awful… I feel a bit like a zombie now…" He still managed to smile with encouragement and I was worried I'd have him hanging over a toilet any moment, spilling his guts quite literally. If he'd even come that far. Turns out the comedian instead started to wobble his limbs about like a movie zombie parody, waving arms in my face. He was just screwing around, his groaning now hilariously loud, throwing himself at me.  
"Ahhh, I am am the drunken dead, I need more liquid graaaaains."  
He laughed and almost tumbled over due to his own laughter, so I caught him to support his weight.  
"Now I see how it is, you asked me to come as your private driver, huh? Alright, lightweight, I can still drive. Where do you live?"  
"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have accepted that whiskey. I'm fine, I just cannot be placed in a driver's seat anymore." He still giggled.  
"It's 666 Darkmore." I helped him towards his car, following the direction his finger was pointing towards, more than his feet. After a while of wobbling to and fro without getting anywhere, I decided to just take my car and place him in the co-driver's seat.  
"No really, funny guy. Where do you live."  
"666 Darkmore."  
"Oh. Uh, alright then." Sure didn't sound suspicious at all. Nothing in Arkham surprised me. The only thing that did surprise me was the lack of monstrosities I had met so far.

I delivered him safely to a house of Victorian architecture. He lived in a rather secluded in a suburban area, very American Dream. Sure enough, this was a pretty neighborhood to live in, except for maybe the graveyard right next to the house. Guess the rent was cheaper that way.  
"Alright, I'll head back to my motel then. I'll drive you to the bar some other day, so you can get your car back."  
"Motel? You don't have an apartment?" He turned to look at me in astonishment and leaned against the front door, a little unsteady on his feet.  
"Yeah, I just arrived this monday. The motel is where I live."  
"If you want to, you can sleep on our couch for the night. There's plenty of space, and I only have a quiet subtenant who never shows up anyway."  
An actual house to sleep in sounded too dreamy to let it pass, and if I was lucky, I could spare the costs of the motel sometime soon.  
"Well, I'm usually not one to sleep at a stranger's house, but you know what, you're no stranger anymore. So sure. Thanks for the offer, buddy."  
As he opened the door, I could've sworn that there was some reflected light flickering in the hallway. He slipped inside before me and started to address that something by name, so I figured it must had been his subtenant. The light could've been glasses.  
"Oh, Herbert…" He sounded worried and weird, so I decided to leave him to his subtenant business and made myself comfortable in the living room instead. I waited for Dan to return and it didn't take too long and looking at the nice furnishing kept me busy anyway.  


We lay sprawled across the living room couch, too tired and tipsy to care about going to bed or sitting properly. There was a silence between us, and I thought it was a comfortable one, but the next thing he dropped on me was probably a tell-tale sign that he hadn't felt the same.  
"My girlfriend is dead, and I'm not sure I can ever find another girl." Well that came out of nowhere. He stared into the dark living room, so I switched on the desk lamp besides me. The new lighting made his melodramatic performance only more theatrical. He just stared into the air with his monotonous eyes.  
"Well, welcome to the club, buddy." I bumped his shoulder with my prosthetic hand and crossed my arms behind my head, trying to take the gravity off the situation. He wanted to talk serious, sure. He was the one starting it, but I could up the ante.  
"I didn't know this was a thing, dead girlfriends. Only difference with me is that I know that the new girls would die too. Like instantly. I haven't lost one woman, I've lost them all. I'd be happy if I got laid before they died, let alone find somebody to, you know, spend my life with." But I was casual about it, because self-pity wouldn't get me anywhere.  
"I know exactly what you mean. Life has become so cruelly Darwinian." He was all self-pity.  
"Dar-what."  
"As long as there is Herbert, no woman is save…" He mumbled, and I think he never intended me to hear it, but I did.  
"Herbert? You mean the small guy from before, the dude you live with? What, is he like some psychopath who kills your new girlfriends?" I laughed, but Dan's reaction made it seem like I hit home more than I intended too. That alarmed me a little, but who am I to judge, I have killed dozens and seen a dozen more die. If I ever were to tell people, they'd send me straight into the asylum.  
"Yeah, that's Herbert, but… you know, forget it… It's not like that. It's a little complicated."  
I pinched his side to cheer him up, and I think it even helped.  
"Haha, hey!" He pinched back and we got into a merciless drunken pinching fight from 0 to full throttle. He accidentally threw me off the couch, and I laughed about the irony of lying on the floor yet again. Being the helper's syndrome that he is, he pulled me up immediately, holding onto me to prevent me falling again. We slowly calmed down, lying on the narrow couch, a little out of breath. The amusement of the pinching soon faded, and the situation changed in tone entirely. It might have been the drinks, or the subjects we had talked about, but I couldn't have possibly been imagining the tension.  
Dan nudged his face against me cheek, grasping my lapel. And that was a pretty damn close proximity for two dudes to lie in. He breathed against my throat, rubbing himself into the crook of my neck like a cat wanting attention. I petted his hair, but the sexual tension sure as hell wasn't something I made up, and it made me really squirmish.  
"No, uh, listen, I'm not gay or anything…"  
"Yeah, I thought so…" He held still.  
"You were looking at women the whole evening, and talking about 'racks' and 'rears'. I started to think you might be one of those men who regard girls as meat. But then I realized you were just being very uncertain and self-conscious and trying to make conversation." Uncertain my ass, what was he, a psychologist? "It's ok." I'll give you ok. "You don't need to be defensive. No matter your sexual orientation, just tell me, so I don't do anything you… don't like. There is nothing wrong with liking both. I'm actually bisexual too, I know about that." Well that stole my thunder.  
"You're bisexual then, huh? I guess I can see that, now that you mention it." I looked him over, or at least as much as this position allowed me to. "Oh, heyyy, but I'm not really bisexual, you see… I'm usually all for the dames, sexually, romantically, everything, I'm just sort of confused lately." He leaned his head back to look at me, and nodded gravely, playing his understanding psychologist cliché.  
"I see where you come from, I've had far more experiences with women too. I just click with them more easily. It takes too much time for me to feel as close to men as I do to women, so before I can find any male romantic interest, there's already a new girl on my mind." He looked worried, like a soap opera doctor with an unrequited love for the fatally-ill patient.  
"I guess I fall in love really easily", he chuckled. "I'm one of those romanticists who don't need sex without a deep emotional bond. But luckily, that happens fast…"  
"Huh, well, I guess that's a view one can have. Are you a player then? New love every night?" I wiggled my eyebrows, trying to pry saucy details out of Dr Love.  
"No, no, definitely not. Once I'm in love, that's that, I don't get distracted." He eyed me with curiosity. Or at least I think he did. His eyes never changed much, but that could've been the alcohol too.  
"And you've been feeling attracted to men lately, or…?"  
"No, I'm, uh, well. There's been this accident that happened, you see… with a guy. A male guy, penis and everything. Just an accident! But it wasn't all that bad. And that confused me."  
"Bisexuality is a thing, you know." There was a grin on his face, but it wasn't mocking.  
"Hey, pal, can I ask you something." I took his chin into my left hand and looked at his lips. I've kissed girls with lips that thin, the shaven stubble around them was the only difference I noticed. Just judging with my eyes. "You're a bit tipsy too, right?" "Yeah." "Should we make out? Just to be sure of this whole bisexuality thing."  
That guy didn't even hesitate to press his lips onto mine. We both moaned with relief and he flinged his arms around my neck.  
 _I'm sure there is a fuckable body hidden underneath that sinfully thin white t-shirt. Maybe spit on it, to see more. He's asking for it._  
That wasn't my thought. I'm sure that wasn't my thought.  
 _You know how it is to be the catcher… how about you train your pitching? He seems willing enough… you wouldn't even need to force him._  
I hid my face in the crook of Dan's neck and hoped that he didn't hear the same things I did. That was this Deadite's undoing, he was trying to talk me into things.  
 _Come on, Ash, you always wanted to have sex with a nurse. Now you can get a doctor, isn't that even better?_ No. This was not something I'd do tonight. Shut up! He wants an emotional bond for sex, and it's far too early to say what I want. I wouldn't play along. Not this time.  
"Ash, is everything alright?"  
I made a weird choked noise, but managed to steady my voice. "Yeah, sure, I'm just excited."  
My hand found itself on Dan's crotch, massaging a bulge through his jeans. And I wasn't sure I had been the one doing that, but I kept it going. He grinned and returned the favor by doing the same to me. My curdoroy pants were not thick enough to dull down my oversensitivity.  
"You sure are." He slowly rolled on top of me, placing slow, gentle kisses on my face and my lips, all while still groping me through my pants. I sighed and moved my hips in rhythm, squeezing his erection in turn.  
"H-hey man, this is going pretty fast." I laughed sheepishly, silenced by his hesitantly interlocking lips with me again. Maybe I was the one closing in, too. I might have grasped the back of his shirt to hold onto something, and felt that his body was indeed shaped by training, much like mine. Less muscles, but very firm and aerodynamic.  
Dan rolled off of me with a happy sigh, lying down on the side, softly bumping nose against nose. He ran his hand over my chest, which tingled so much that it gave me a shiver, and gave me another short peck on the lips.  
He laughed, so I guess it was all fine with him, and I laughed too, because it felt pretty much like innocent High School makeout sessions now.  
"I just really needed that tonight… I hope it helps you clear up some of your questions too. You seem to be a very nice guy, Ash."  
"Oh, I'm more than nice, honeycheeks, I'm a bomb."  
"Yeah." He chuckled. "I can see that." There was a break of heavy breathing and a quiet squeak of the couch as we adjusted our positions.  
"Kissing is fine without… you know… being madly in love with one another." He whispered, and it sounded like he needed to assure himself, more than me, so I just nodded. "Yeah, sure, I've kissed a lot of girls without being madly in love. Who ever said you have to be."  
"Nobody."  
He smirked and grabbed me again, sensually kissing me, this time with tongue and hands and everything. And the scratching of our stubbly chins against each other was pretty damn funny.  
I slid my hands up his back as we entangled our legs and pulled close. But he flinched, so I stopped immediately.  
"Oh, sorry, I wasn't planning on doing anything funny, I just thought-…"  
"No, your hand-… it's cold. That… prosthesis." He took my hands and lead them back behind him, encouraging me to embrace him again.  
"What happened there? Did you lose your hand in an accident? The model looks… very alternative." He whispered against my lips and his half-lidded eyes were fiercely focused on my physical presence. I placed the prosthetic hand on the back of his head and used the organic one to stroke over his warm back underneath his undershirt. "Oh, you know Dan, that's a longer story. I'll tell you some other time…"  
We became this comforting knot of limbs in a tight embrace I wouldn't ever tell my parents about. Touching his back, his arms, his chest, his thighs, it was foreign, because it was another man, and exciting, because it was another man. He could've been a friend of mine during my teenage years, just regarding personality and everything, so it felt familiar and intimate and save. It actually seemed like I was finally getting what I had been missing the other night. When my Deadite double had suddenly opened up the world of man-on-man sexuality to me.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Dr Henry Armitage is a librarian at Miskatonic University mentioned in Lovecraft's short story "The Dunwich Horror". Here, he confronts the titular creature himself, which is why he does everything to prevent any future incidents with the paranormal. This is the same Dr Armitage -or rather an adaptation who was born in 1955, and not 1855.


	3. Of Missing Hands and Extra Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herbert is suspicious of the visitor, and fights for Dan's attention, using the methods he knows best: Science, Reagent & a healthy dose of manipulation.  
> (POV: Herbert West)

It was a weekday, I think to recall, but yet again, Dan had not been returning home before impudent hours. He had an early shift that day, I know his schedules, and he is not blessed with energy as extensive as mine. No matter what he did, he would be too tired to help me in the laboratory, and this was his passive-aggressive rebellion. This was his type of violence, self-declaimed pacifist good boy Dan Cain. After his initial excuses of overtime working, which I had easily proven to be a white lie, he had ceased to even explain himself, even upon my asking for explanations. And I knew that he was using my knowledge of his schedule and his unjustified absence to cause me distress or guilt or fear, though I doubt that he had ever framed a plan of such 'cruelty' in his conscious thoughts. Good boy Daniel Cain. His inner conflict between a healthy idealism and an oversensitive fear was displaying mounting extremes, and it had become a delicate game to nudge him into the right directions, as he has potential to be the one assistant to bring my research to blooming fruition. Most of those days, he was unable to find words for what he wanted or didn't want.  
If it weren't for his recent lack of reliability, I wouldn't need to endure the ticking of the clock on the cellar wall, I wouldn't need a clock.  
I moved the surgical light which was attached to what I fondly called the 'operating table', illuminating the face, seeing 1:42am.  
Interrupting my work, all because of Dan and his caprices forced me to become aware of my human body again. It was an appalling sensation. There was a bit of fatigue, a bit of burning in my swollen eyes, a bit of ache all over my body, but most of all, there was thirst. I could try hydrating myself with a more traditional fluid, for a change. The water from the kitchen tap tasted chalky and heavy, with a rather high percentage of magnesium and calcium, so I made a mental note to remind Dan to check the dishwasher for limescales.  
There was a sudden clatter at the front door, and the rhythm of fumbling indicated that it was not only my housemate, but also that he was slightly intoxicated. The door creaked ajar, he spotted me immediately, and didn't wait for me to approach him.  
"Oh, Herbert…"  
I could not catch sight of whomever he tried to hide from me. There were steps towards the living room, and he knew perfectly well that I had noticed. This wasn't about actually hiding something from me, he was provocatively rubbing my nose in the fact.  
"Herbert, what's happened? Why are you up here? Is there something in the cellar? Please tell me you didn't reanimate anything in the meantime." His words blurred into one sequence of mumbled, apathetic groaning.  
This was a representative statement for all topical statements. It was almost as if he had forgotten our initial plans altogether, and failed to substitute them with something new, half-heartedly clinging to aimless, melancholic negativity. I flatly smiled up at him, but in truth, I really didn't smile at all.  
"There is no threat in our cellar, if that's what you were implying. What are you thinking of me? I was waiting for your return after all, so we can continue our work together."  
"Herbert…" He let himself fall onto one of the kitchen chairs, supporting the weight of his dazed head with his own hand.  
"I don't have time today. I need to take care of my graduate studies, because some people, unlike you, need to work hard to get by. Would you, I don't know, consider taking up a hobby?"  
My smile became genuine, and maybe a little mischievous.  
"Funny that you mention it… I actually did a bit of… crafting today."  
"Crafting?" He found it hard to believe.  
"Let me show you. It's only a little something, but it might mean a big something."  
Dan did not budge, despite my unambiguous gestures towards the cellar. He rubbed his eyes, too fatigued to react, failing me.  
"Not now, we have a guest. I need to attend to him. Please, just go to bed for a change? I think you need some sleep too." So the visitor was a 'he', interesting.  
"You know I don't need much sleep…" I cackled at the absurdity of the option.  
"I know that you don't grant yourself any, Herbert, there's a difference."  
Consequently, I was forced to seize his wrist to tug him the way. He staggered along, constantly whispering my name, as if I was the one who needed to wake up from being half-asleep. Even though he must know that I never find myself in such states of defocus! Down in the cellar, I handed a lifeless thing into the lifeless hands of my lifeless assistant, waiting for everything to set in motion and come to life again. Dan now held a third hand in his own two, and it was independent, quivering and pleasantly warm.  
"What is this?" Disgust in his voice, of course.  
"What IS this?" He shoved it back to me, and I fumbled to catch it, immediately petting the palm as I had a secure grip. It wiggled gaily at the gesture of affection.  
"It's a hand, of course. You must recognize a hand…?"  
"It's a detached hand. Is there somebody around here who this hand belongs to?" He looked around with paranoia in his eyes.  
"No, it's independent. You remember how Dr Hill managed to live in two separate parts, as a body and a head? I wondered: How far can we go, how fragmented can a body become and still function? And just look at this little friend. I thought he, or she, could make for a valuable companion. You enjoy pets. You enjoyed your cat." I smiled.  
"I hated Rufus. And I sure hate this thing too! Even more, for obvious reasons."  
"I don't find these reasons that obvious…" The smile on my face turned sour. He couldn't fully understand the beauty of life as little as the beauty of death sometimes.  
"Herbert, what you're doing is mutilating corpses and then bringing parts of them back to live for your own amusement. This is far beyond our goal, this has nothing to deal with saving people. This is sick, Herbert, and dangerous. I don't have the time or the moral standing for this. I'm leaving."  
"Leaving where?" There was a tinge of panic welling up in my chest.  
"Upstairs. We have a guest. Well, actually, I have a guest. Go to bed, Herbert." His accusation fell flat due to his eyes remaining neutral, as they almost always do. He may had tried to raise his voice, but Dan often failed to give his emotions a genuine outlet, which sometimes results in the impression of him reading lines from a script, badly. I understood his idea behind the act, so I reacted at if it had delivered. My reaction was an pleading expression of suffering, injustice, and good intentions misunderstood. I was a better actor than him.  
"I made this for you."  
He left the cellar without reply.

It must had been around 4 o'clock in the morning, when my attempts to animate even smaller singled out body parts wasn't showing any new developments of satisfactory nature. Almost a dozen of dead fingers of all colors, shapes and genders were scattered on the operating table, a few toes, an eye, a large intestine. Especially the last one would've made such an amusing sight, it might had moved like a snake, or at least like a worm. Sometimes Dan's eye for detail and organizational talent had been beneficial to my experiments, and sometimes his rejection of a thesis was the needed justification for going into depth. But now, with greatest displeasure, I even failed to locate the reanimated hand pet.  
I tip-toed upstairs, to make sure that the stranger's unsuspecting eyes would not be the first ones to fall upon my workday's silver lining. The living room held a stranger, presented on the plate of the full moon's light. He was without surveillance, which is why I took upon evaluating him: Sturdy nature, defined muscles, high testosterone levels, very strong chin, hardly taller than Dan. A too perfect specimen of the male homo sapiens, exaggerating the male ideals to caricature. The effect was comical and absurd and from his looks, I estimated him to be the type of friend you watch sports, drink beer and pick up women with. Dan has selected the opposite of me. There was no hand in sight. In fact, this poor devil seemed to be missing one of his own as well, almost as if all hands in the vicinity had suddenly come to life and run away. Maybe it escaped with mine, in a forbidden romance, to make a family of thousand little fingerlings! Fun aside, I wouldn't be surprised if he had lost it in an accident that could have been avoided. Something like a failed attempt to make a flamethrower out of hairspray and a lighter. Or drunkenly chopping wood to impress somebody. Or maybe he got it stuck in an elevator door while waving to a friend. But that was enough time wasted on self-indulgent what ifs.  
I finally found the five-fingered escapee in the room of its determined owner, shuffling over the floor like a clumsy, obese spider made of thick purplish flesh. The experiment was not equipped with any organs of perception, except for tactioception (touch), proprioception (body part location), thermoception (temperature), nociception (pain) and equilibrioception (balance). It came as a pleasant surprise that it budged away from me as I approached, proving that vibrations of the ground, and perhaps my temperature aura, were indeed a sufficient amount of information for it to go by. To my shock, I saw it hopping onto Dan's bed, scampering up his leg like a parasite ready to disappear in his auditory canal and break the tympanic membrane to make itself at home between temporal lobe and brainstem. I didn't need to take any chances and snatched the critter from Dan's chest, and it jiggled and squirmed violently. Dan stirred, and I was still standing bent over him.  
"Dan, good, you're awake!" Of course he needed a bit of adjustment before he could properly greet me.  
"Herbert! Good god! What are you-…" He drew his blanket up to his clavicles, and the gesture was parallel to all the times he's accidentally run into me with nothing but a towel or a blanket to wear. Sometimes I would roam the house just to provoke it happening, because it always shocked him so beautifully.  
"You don't seem to be required by your guest anymore, so I thought you might have more time and interest to re-evaluate our new pet. He's even found his way to you on his own! He's quite the loyal little thing. I think Nietzsche likes you."  
"It's a female hand."  
I puckered my lips into an offended pout, but couldn't suppress a curly smirk for long.  
"Now that's not very open-minded of you, is it? Can't a hand express its gender in any way it wants?"  
I placed the hand on the bed, and it waggled about like a curious little puppy thing. It seemed to be attracted to warmth, as it was most interested in slipping underneath the blanket and exploring Dan's landscape. "Well, what do we have here…"  
The color drained from his face. I put a hand on his wrist.  
"Wait, Dan, let us observe: What is it planning to do? You know as well as I do that this creation has no brain or central nervous system to speak of, so it's groundbreaking to see it go after some kind of… purpose."  
Dan jumped with a squeak, clutching the blanket for safety. "Herbert, it's going for my lap. Seriously, it's on my upper thigh, this is- oh- oh-!"  
I held his wrist harder, obstructing his panicked tug. "You can't interrupt this, Dan! What could it possibly do there? Don't be silly, it has no teeth, and hasn't shown any aggressive behavior as of yet. In case-" He cut in with a startled groan, grasping the wrist of the hand that was grasping his wrist, clinging to my hand with both of his. His eyes pierced mine with intensity. "Herbert, it is in my pants. It's wrapped itself around my… my… you know." The color returned to his face and the saturation toppled over into pinks and reds, as the rush of blood caused him to blush. "My sexual reproductive organ. Herbert, it's grabbing my penis."  
I knitted my brow and burst into laughter. "Now, Dan, you're pulling my leg…"  
"No, I am not!" His face tried to find a compromise between amusement and horror.  
"Why, this is… fantastic, isn't it? Has it developed some kind of directed motivation without even having a brain? And where does it take it from?"  
"Quite frankly, Herbert, as interesting as that fact may be, this detached zombie hand is on a most delicate area and I'm not keen to- ohh-"  
Dan stopped and cringed, ripping himself out of my grasp. He wrapped both his hands around his central area, from outside the fleece blanket. Aggressive wiggles fought against his capture, and I too, tried to get him off of it. "Daniel, it won't hurt you unless you cause it pain, just let go and relax, I'm sure it will come out on its own again!"  
He looked at me inquiringly, as if I hadn't expressed myself clearly, or as if he'd expect more words to come. I had none, but widening eyes and an affirmative nod. He complied and hesitatingly let go. While tensely lowering himself back into his pillow, he closed his eyes, and drew in his lips.  
"For science, huh…"  
He bit his lower lip, and I saw his hips faintly bucking underneath the blanket. When he opened one eye to look at me again, he turned his head with a coy smile, laughing to himself, holding his forehead. "Goddammit, Herbert… this thing is jerking me off…"  
I pulled up a chair from the corner of the room, to seat myself in sufficient proximity. There was something about this that intrigued me.  
Dan squeezed his head against the pillow, sinking in, sinking deep. His whole body was shivering and his hands were cramped up, hovering helplessly above the mattress.  
"It's certainly not… ahhh… attacking me, that's for sure." He chuckled, face flushed and heated, and I chuckled too, face cold with professional distance.  
His eyes may had been unfocused and hazy, but they kept returning to mine. His initial alienation had made way for an inquisitory nature, like a statement of some kind. It almost looked as if he was trying to show me what a good assistant he could be. His firm eyes held a stare of obsession that I enjoyed whenever I saw it, and missed whenever I didn't, as it held the power to make him overcome his silly fears or moral questions. It said: Look at us succeed. Look at us, change the world! Look at me Herbert. Look at the both of us and what fantastic creatures we are.  
"I could… use a few more hands…", he breathed, licking his dry lips. "Just… one or two… "  
"Oh, alright. Umh, I must admit, this is a little embarrassing…"  
I hesitated, and my hesitation seemed to cause him a greater distress than expected.  
"I haven't created any more than this, I'm afraid… Not yet. I thought that the mechanics of the up and downward slide could be sufficiently fulfilled with one specimen, was I wrong?"  
"No" He shook his head and grinned, half relief and half discomfort. "You weren't wrong, but I'd really need… more. The enjoyment comes from more than just the mechanical motions, I know this sounds weird to you, but there is more to this than physical stimulation. I'd like to feel… another person. A whole person, somebody who's eyes I can look into." He looked into mine, but suddenly stopped himself, suppressing his hedonistic gazes and substituting them with his alienated 'What have you done again' look. "Wait, so you had planned this after all? What did you do to a hand to have it… give me a handjob on instinct. And-" I saw him mouth 'why' silently.  
I laughed, but his smile in response only came weak and askew and maybe not meant as a sign of agreement, but a sign of helplessness. His breathing hitched, and he could not hide that the hand was still stimulating him.  
"Well, I'm actually not too sure myself! I didn't expect anything like this to happen. Maybe it has some kinetic memory, as I think the donor was a heterosexual female...“  
Upon his usage of the word 'handjob' the vague motions underneath the blanket were put into a new context, and my interpretation could not remain unaltered. I could feel myself getting tense, terrified and alienated, not having realized that I had joined in a sexual experience without really thinking it over. I observed Dan's hazed expression and my scalp tingled with fascination. This was a sensation combining elements of surprise and estrangement due to something yet unseen and not fully understood. A kind of horror of the unknown and a macabre fascination nonetheless. Dan's sexuality had been my enemy, but it wasn't an enemy now. I leaned closer, as rigid as a anatomical model. I couldn't decide whether his unnaturally cramped up body in its bizarre position or his slightly altered speech pattern was what drew me in.  
„Are you aroused, Dan?“  
He smiled at me like mezmerized, drew in his lips, and his eyelids became heavier. I held the gaze. „Can I see more?"  
He gave a painful smile as if he knew more than I did, and slowly drew the blanket off of him. The hand was in his pants, there was no skin exposed in any pornographic manner, but the thin fabric didn't leave much to the imagination. It was a fantastically weird sight, the hand without the owner, bobbing up and down inside Dan's pajama bottoms.  
"Have you really never considered using your own hands?", he whispered, having now started to tremble and sweat. He must have been in a sexual frenzy by then, as he was starting to talk less and less coherently. I shook my head in irritation.  
"I still need my hands for work, why would I amputate them to be used as pets?"  
He only laughed, interrupted by his own overwhelmed, confused, aroused moan. He laughed even more about managing several conflicting emotional states at once.  
"What I fail to understand is how somebody with such a thirst for knowledge can be so dense sometimes. You know, nevermind Herbert, it's better you don't understand. It was a horrible idea, I was distracted."  
If not before, then it had been clear to me then, what he meant, and what he implied. But I decided to not tell him. He was in a frenzy, and no statements during pillow talk should ever be taken too seriously, just as a safe default assumption. I would not be able to get this out of my mind again.  
He needed to fill the silence between us, to downplay his irregular breathing, and to fight his embarrassment.  
"It's probably crucial for the… validity of the experiment to not let any other… external variable influence it. Or something like that, right? So nothing is allowed but that one hand. That's something you would say-" Desperately reaching for my hand, he mewled, cringed and cramped up, so I grasped it with both my palms -I then realized that he had been taken over by a climax, and that I had no need to worry about any other hands required for now. I held the hand of my now limp assistant for a moment, but then let go, smirking self-congratulatory.  
"I'd say this was a success as both an experiment and a cheer-up present."  
Nietzsche the hand freed itself from the soft fleece and happily scurried across the mountain-range of Dan, hurrying into its creators arms.  
"Nobody would ever consider a sex toy zombie hand as a good present.“, he wheezed breathlessly.  
The hand in my hands was moist and heated, and parts of its palm had a glimmering sheen, which from the looks of it, were traces of Dan's genetic material. I squinted my eyes, had an uncomfortable shiver run down my spine, and quickly closed the hand's fingers around it.  
„You seemed to enjoy it.“, I smirked.  
He groaned, knowing his defeat, dragged himself to an upwards position, and turned his eyes away from me.  
„Just how did you manage to make me agree to this..." He covered his eyes and laughed about himself, which was better than depression, better than fear. Desperate self-irony. "Especially now. Your timing is the worst, Herbert. I can't do this… But I did."  
I decided to comfort him.  
"Well, you are not only my assistant, but also my friend, Dan. You haven't been yourself lately, and it's so painful for me to see you like this. It doesn't take a scientist to see that you have some… complications with your dopamine levels."  
"Some people would call this 'feeling down'..." He scoffed.  
"Which is why I have accepted it as my duty to enable your independence from dopamine cravings. Whenever you have a woman available to get dopamine hits, you're distractible and fickle, whenever you don't have one, you're apathetic and sad."  
"Herbert, I think that this is not only about women…"  
"I think now may be the perfect timing to find a solution, don't you agree? Maybe I can prevent you from rushing into any… impetuous situations."  
The positivity had then drained from his face, and he just stared at me in disbelief. He fully understood that I was referring to his visitor. Up until now, it never occurred to me that he might like anything besides women, but it was safer to not underestimate him now.  
"You want to help me get independent from hormones? Have you lost your mind? Dopamine is good, Herbert. You know as well as I do that it's the feel-good hormone. You have dopamine in your bloodstream too, maybe at a lower default level, I don't know, but you do."  
I shook my head and put an index finger on his lips. "Shh. Too much of anything is bad, and your greedy behavior is equaling an addiction."  
He opened his mouth to demand "Are you seriously-…?" but I pressed my finger harder, mashing the rest of the sentence into garbled murmurs. "Shhhh."  
He surrendered, too drained from his hopelessly self-indulgent erotic adventure.  
"Get some sleep now. I will see you in the morning, ready for some new experiments. I will even make breakfast, okay?" I chirped affectionately.  
"What? Yeah…" His voice sounded less excited, which was most likely the side-effect of the hormonal flood that a sexual climax causes in the human body. Dopamine, the reward hormone, prolactin, the satiation hormone, oxytocin, the human bonding hormone, and penylethylamine, another elevating stimulant (also found in cocoa). After being high on such a cocktail, the hormone levels will fall sharply, and cause an immediate low. His eyes were apathetic, fatigued, and his motions sluggish: Everything in order. I could not understand how people were accepting this crash for a waste of time and energy, but humans are such an easy prey for all things wasteful.  
"Alright, sure…"  
I found myself in a strange state of hyperfocus upon return to the lab, but not on the now, but on the immediate past. Observing him had intrigued me… on more than the scientific level. I quite enjoyed the power it held, its grotesque weirdness. Also the knowledge that it wasn't anybody else doing it to him, using it to steal him from me. The knowledge that I had it under control. Also, the more oxytocin in his bloodstream when I'm around, the more he becomes attached to me, and the more loyal he will act. I congratulated myself on this masterpiece of interpersonal gambit, and laughed at how blind I have been to not reach for the lowest hanging fruit in the first place.


	4. Bad Cooks, Worse Creatures & How to Deal with Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The morning after" can be quite an adventure, if a jealous little subtenant joins the table. But awkward conversations are nothing against the horrors that await Ash Williams at Miskatonic U, where the Necronomicon has already fallen into the wrong hands.  
> (POV: Ash Williams)

I wrinkled my nose and sniffed at the world, and so the heavenly comfort of dreamless slumber had mercilessly kicked me out for the night, and kicked me out for good. My body shot up and cramped with the adrenaline kick, all other senses were still lagging behind. Time to act fast, something was wrong, or so my old sniffer old me. First thing: The surrounding stench was acrid, burnt and rotten, like some eldritch rat monster had curled up in yesterday's food scraps and spontaneously combusted into screeching flames. It dragged all fragrances down to hell with it, distorting the Carribean Paradises, the Meadows & Rains, the Lavender Dreams. It was a guessing game though, I could hardly dissect what once had been underneath that pungent punch in the nose. My lungs eroded with every breath.  
  
Next thought: Where the hell was I, and why did it smell like I should run for my life? My eyes remembered to finally open, man was I slow. The sun had dawned, the clock said 7:15am, I was in some living room, on some couch, under a thick, flannel wool blanket.  
Oh yeah, right. I've been going home with a handsome doctor last night, which got me having some bi-curious bi-satisfaction. Not bad, Ash-Meister. Tip-toeing on socks, I approached where I assumed the funk to come from. It was the kitchen. And there was Dan's tiny housemate blocking the view with little body that he had, fumbling with something in his hand. He could have been cutting something into pieces. He could have been fighting something. He could have been making balloon animals. He could have been... making breakfast?

"Ah, it's you. You're too early. Your host isn't awake yet. I am living with him, so I have all the access privileges to use this kitchen."  
The short guy didn't even deem me worthy of more of a short glance. From that gesture alone, and the cold arrogance of his words, I sensed that he may have had something against me. No reason to be as fast to judge, maybe he was just too busy to take a proper look. From the glimpse I could snatch, he was in the process of making scrambled eggs or pancakes or something of similar color. Singed black and brown with all the wrong spices, and too much of them too.  
  
"Good morning, my name's Ash." He ignored my extended hand. He ignored my entire existence, even though I was standing close enough for him to know.  
"So, do you need help with that, buddy?" I swung myself on one of the wooden kitchen chairs, feeling it creak under the weight of my force.  
"No, I do not need help. Are you a chef? Why would you be in a position to offer help?" The aggressive scraping of the wooden spoon against the metal pan made me cringe, and delayed my ability to respond his sneer.  
"So I assume you're joining us for breakfast, aren't you..." If I hadn't interrupted him, he would have ended the conversation before I could respond.  
"Well, I wouldn't refuse a bite to eat. Or two. Should I get Dan while you... deal with this? Where's his bedroom?"  
As he finally turned around, I thought, yeah, gotcha, now look me in the eye. But no such luck, he just scraped his undoings onto a platter and smashed it onto the table right in front of me.  
" _I_... am going to fetch Dan. _You_... can eat this. It's eggs. People like you like eggs, don't you?" His piercing gaze was not a better option than him ignoring me.  
"Hold on, people like me?" The judging stare, the harsh movements, that reeking food. Was he planning to poison me? There was an arrogance in his whole performance that just rubbed me the wrong way. I hadn't done anything to provoke this behavior. Sure, I'm an acquired taste, but judge me after I'm done acting like a screwup dimwit, not before I even started. Maybe he was one of those elitists who don't want anybody under 40K per year in their household. Maybe he was just in a foul mood.

As he then returned with Dan, I couldn't suppress to be all cheshire grin, Dan, who was wearing a columbia blue housecoat with dark windowpane check, with only boxer shorts underneath. He did close the gown upon arrival, sluggish and halfasleep, but the timeframe was long enough to get a saucy view. As our eyes met, he started to grin too, equally loaded with innuendo. The joyous expression only disappeared from Dan's face as he started to smell what had ripped me out of my sleep before, and he covered his mouth and nose in terror.  
"Good god, Herbert, what happened here?", he whined.  
"I started to make breakfast", Herbert chirped, his voice quivering slightly. "...but then I got interrupted by your visitor. I will continue immediately, go sit down, and don't worry."  
But before he could turn to the stove again, Dan and I jumped and both grabbed his arms to prevent further disasters. He ripped himself off of me with disgust, but motioned more forgivingly when it came to Dan.  
"Just let us set up whatever we have left in the fridge, okay?" Dan said with his brow knitted in thankful pity. He shook his head. "I can't believe you actually... tried to make breakfast."  
"What do you mean, tried?" His deadpan expression sounded like he actually still believed in his success. To both our horror, Dan and I witnessed Herbert open the fridge to reveal a whole array of prearranged foodstuffs, some cooked, some raw, some... let's say 'processed'. There were a bunch of regular sandwiches, tight under layers of plastic wrap, which made them look like homemade imitations of gas station food. Unfortunately, they were the only sight that evoked any sentiment close to appetite.

The freshly squeezed orange juice contained kernels and white scraps, next to offcolored pancake fragments presoaked in various syrups (or oils), next to baconshaped black coal stripes, next to presoaked bowls of mushy cereal (what kind? beats me). He placed all this on the table, with us two unable to even respond to it. To top it off, the little guy added his fried tomatoes from the stove, and I mean whole fried tomatoes, all round and uncut and mostly raw, blotches of brown burn stains on two sides only. He added a clean plate for Dan, and almost gave me one as well, but his hesitations turned into changing his mind.

"You can use your plate with the scrambled eggs. No need for you to soil any more flatware." He taunted me, that little bastard.  
"Oh, and Dan, I made coffee. Here, let me fetch it, it's still on the coffee machine. It's keeping it warm, after all, you would want a warm coffee, right?" His face made a freakish Dr JekyllMr Hyde transformation whenever he turned to Dan, and he was suddenly all sweet and attentive and so damn greedy for approval. Something was odd about this.  
And it wasn't the bitter burnt coffee smell that I hadn't been able to identify as part of the stench until now.  
"Herbert, really, uh... thanks. Thank you. But... let's not have you make breakfast in the future anymore, okay?" Dan felt as awkward as I did. Just that he was genuinely moved at the same time, and couldn't bring himself to actually say what we both knew. This breakfast was either a damn fine prank, or the little guy was the worst cook I've ever met.  
"What are you saying?" Herbert seemed genuinely confused and deeply hurt. "You haven't even tried it yet!" Swiftly, he poured him some coffee, adding 3 sugar cubes and a dash of milk (which may have been spoiled, from the chunky looks of it), and sat down right between us, slicing the room into strict war zones, staring with great expectation.

Dan chuckled and threw me a humorously concerned glance. He was awfully embarrassed. Embarrassed enough to actually take a bite off the pancakes and go the distance to actually keep the nausea lowprofile. I grabbed one of the sandwiches, and they were as edible as they looked. It's impossible to screw up butter, cheese, bologna and lettuce. I also shoveled down the scrambled eggs mush, tasting more coal than egg. More nutmeg, black pepper and salt than actual egg. I hoped that the crunchiness was only pieces of eggshells, and not something worse. I wasn't gonna reject free food, and I've had even worse at dingy highway diners, but god, this was awful.

Herbert started to smile with childlike glee, his eyes feasting on the view of Dan, but he dropped it when he turned towards me.  
"So, how do you two know one another?" His voice cold enough for a 10 degree room temperature drop. "Well, funny story! We've met at Miskatonic University, I got a job as a testee there, and he was the experiment leader guy for" I mumbled with a full mouth.  
"Ah, and how is your current relation, just for the record?" He interrupted.  
"Uh, well"  
"We're friends, Herbert." Dan answered. He leaned towards his colodger, giving him a firm stare. His voice then turned into a whispered hiss. "What are you doing? He's my guest, you can't just interrogate him!”  
"I'm just very invested in your social life, Danny! So... can we expect to see you... more often then?" His lighthearted innocence was just too much and his smile towards me a threat.  
Dan interjected "Herbert!", still struggling with the plate that Herbert was filling even more as we talked, with tomatoes on pancakes and cereals on tomatoes. But I just grinned, I got everything under control, and leaned back cocking an eyebrow.  
"Well, to be honest with you, I hope you will. If I get another invitation, you'll see a whole lot more of me." I looked towards Dan, and he smiled and averted his eyes. But there it was, he looked back at once, giving me the ogle. Doesn't matter if man or woman, if I have ever seen a universal symbol for a flirty affirmation, then it was this. Damn right, my mojo was rocking it, irregardless of gender. And I only realized that at the age of 28, 10 years too late for those wild college experiments.

"Yeah, I think you are gonna see me more often around here. So, let's get down to some real talk here." I gave him the questioning eye of serious business.  
"What's your deal, shorty? Are you just suspicious of strangers, afraid I'll steal your stuff, or what? I could tell you all about me, show you some papers, I don't know, so I wouldn't be a stranger anymore. It would be the best for the both of us if we don't have to turn this into some feud. Because I sure as hell won't leave just because you're bullying me. Maybe you should trust your roomie's intuition.”  
"No, I don't believe that will be necessary. I have all the information I want for now." The peewee didn't even try to deny my accusations.  
"I will leave you to it then, and I will go to... the office room. Will you join me, Dan? We need to... work on our thesis, do you remember? We talked about it last night, and you promised."  
"I'll join you in a minute, Herbert." Dan forced a helpless smile, and his work partner patted his shoulder approvingly. Dan watched him leaving very closely, as if he couldn't wait for him to finally be gone. I was getting ready for all the things you could do in the privacy of two, when I realized that his eyes weren't rigid in nervousness. His gaze was sashaying across Herbert's physique, up and down and quivering and vague, clinging to all the right places. He was checking out his ass. He was indulging in the view of that slender body as if he was drooling over some warm sugar donuts in the bakery window display.

There was no way I was misreading that type of look, I'm an expert at them myself, and he was undoubtedly horny for the little guy. There could have been aesthetic appreciation, nothing sexual to that, sure. But this was the look of a starving animal. He was real hungry for some nerd action. When he noticed my awareness, he swiftly averted his eyes and even started blushing.  
"Sorry man, I definitely saw that..." I grinned, distractedly munching more nauseating pancake shrapnel.  
"No, Ash, no, really. You're probably misunderstanding this."  
"How are you so sure of what I'm thinking then?" My tone was a lighthearted joke, to elevate the nervousness from him. Because let's face it, we had just fooled around a little and hardly knew one another. I had no justification to be jealous of anybody.  
"Hey, it's all fine, he's a bit of a weirdo, sure, but what do I know. Whatever you're into." I leaned in closer, whispering into his ear. "So, uh, do you got something going on, is that what's his problem? Because that would be kind of hot. Or do you just want to get into his pants and he doesn't let you? Aw, did you fall for a hetero dud?"  
"I'm not" He started to chuckle at my choice of word. "It's more complex than that."  
"Oh, more serious?" And then it hit me like a brick. "Ahh shit... fuck! I'm sorry. I hope I wasn't, uh..."  
"Yes?"  
"Being a homewrecker. I'm not some boy toy for secret affairs on the side, you know, I'm a full dosage. If you two have something going on, we can just be pals and forget about all the kissy stuff, no problem. Really, no problem at all!"  
"But I'm not taken, please believe me. I wouldn't lie to you, I'm a horrible liar. Herbert West and I, we're work partners. We haven't had sex, we haven't kissed, we didn't even have sexual tension. We're close, in some way, but we're even less intimate than normal friends would be, regarding spending time, sharing thoughts... friend things. He's not the type for friendship or relationships." There was a break, where he just worriedly looked at the pile of foodstuffs in front of him.  
"I'm not sure he's into anything at all. He doesn't like women, and he hasn't shown any interest in men either. Unless they were dead." Well that sure set off my alarms.  
"Uh, alright, not to be kinkshaming, but maybe you should consider having his brains checked!"  
"Oh god no, not like that! He's often in pathology and very dedicated to his work. He's not interested in them like that, only scientifically."  
"Sounds like a keeper. You'll be dead longer than you'll be alive, after all." And I gave him a teasing, suggestive smirk and a nod of the head.  
"Ash, come on, stop being such a big idiot." He punched my shoulder, and I punched back. The throwback was way bigger for him, but we both rubbed our arms afterwards, laughing.  
  
"I may be an idiot, buuut I'm also a lucky idiot, ain't I? So let me summarize this situation: You're not taken, you're not in love, and we had a pretty steamy tonguefight last night." He stared at me, while a flattered smile slowly appeared on his lips.  
"Are you asking me out?"  
"Well, uh" I shrugged one shoulder. "Nahhh, making out is not like some... marriage proposal. It stands for itself, right? But you're a pretty cool guy for a nerd, and I'm really into that whole faceandbody package you got there. So a guy like me just wants to know whether you're still in the game, no obligations, just..."  
"How about I cook for us tonight, without Herbert's involvement, and we watch a movie together?" His eyelids were lowered and I could've sworn that he was bending forward to grant me a good view into his housecoat.  
"Wait, are _you_ asking me out now?"  
"Yes, I am."  
"Like a... mandate, no homo, pal quality time, or"  
"Like a datedate, Ash. More making out possibly included, if we both feel like it. I would be happy to, I like the way you kiss." I started laughing, strangely excited about finally getting asked for a date again. Getting asked on a date at all, and not doing the asking myself. What I try to keep a secret: I always hope for the other party to make the significant moves, even when I do shower them with my declarations of interest, my flirtatious advantages, my innuendo. I haven't even properly started wooing Dan, and he was already asking me out! Last time somebody was that enthusiastic, it was the middle ages. Literally. Hey, this didn't even feel much different to anticipating a date with a woman, almost as if men and women were both only people after all!  
"It's my treat, come on, you should come just for the free food and free shelter. No obligations, nothing you don't want to, just some fun."  
"You know what, Dan? To hell with it, I'm accepting your invitation!"  
Dan smirked. "Great, it's a date then.”  
And I smirked too, nodding enthusiastically.

  
Saturdays have never been my days to study, but here I was, Saturday at 5pm, Miskatonic University library. Overtime working after 8 paid hours of running, sweating, eating vitamins, and getting observed like some exotic animal. I was only glad they paid me in cash. Libraries on Saturdays, not a sight I'd often had. Sure, I did study enough to get through, I wasn't a bad student. I was just always more of a Sunday crammer type, recovered enough from social weekend escapades, stressed enough by impending deadlines. Well, that was all back when I was actually still going to school. Still learning to become something. Still part of that social layer. Well, that sure is over.

Stretching my homemade metal hand, looking at the intricate work I had done with the little means I had had, I couldn't help but wonder whether I didn't actually have some talent I could've pursued. Be an engineer, hell, maybe even invent some groovy gadget that would have been the new Walkman. Something everybody needed to carry around. I could've been the creator of the Nintendo Powerglove. The Praktica MTL10B camera. Or join the Motorola guys with their DynaTAC 8000X cell phone. Or maybe I would've created new and improved Worlds of Wonder Lazer Tag equipment, for some safe, violent fun. I could've provided the voice for some wacky inventor type on Lazer Tag Academy, if they had asked me to, Ash J. Williams as Ash J. Williams, and they surely would've lasted more than a season! Just something other than this. Something that wouldn't have resulted in me sneaking around a library to find weak spots in their security system, like a criminal delinquent. I grabbed a book every couple feet, to seem especially unsuspicious, secret agent style. They had agreed to lift the ban, since I was employed by the university now, but everyone was still eyeing me like a criminal, a ticking time bomb. Which wasn't all wrong an impression.

The air was thick with Saturday afternoon tension. Suddenly, a scream cut the silence. The chief librarian Dr Armitage ran past me, shrieking in terror. I was still miles away from his secret reading room. When he saw me, he came to a screeching halt, eyes rabid and wide, and he had the nerve to grab my collar.  
"It's you! I knew you deserved the ban! What have you done?!"  
"It wasn't me, officer, I swear! Now hold on, what exactly is it that I haven't done?" I lifted my hands in submission, even though that greying lanky beanstalk would have been no match for me, if push came to shove.  
"How long have you been in here, to not know? There's something happening outside! There are... so many of them. So, so many!"  
"So many of what?" My deadite senses were tingling.  
"I think you have to just... see for yourself." I dashed outside, straight to my car, and fetched my trusty Homelite XL chainsaw appendage. Whatever I had just ran by, I wanted to have this baby ready before I took a closer look.

I returned to a sight that was hard to comprehend as real, even with my experience with Deadites. This hit a new level of disturbing. In the middle of the plaza, there was a humanoid creature with an almost intact human face, if it hadn't been skinned and missing a few slabs of meat. Underneath that pretty face, there was hardly anything left of what probably used to be a girl. No skin, no muscles, not even a skeleton, all that was left was her wobbly guts and their moist sheen. Her organs were hovering in place, levitating in a supernatural shiver, and her intestines shaped unsteady substitutes for arms and legs, which could have been comical in any other situation, just look at them, noodle legs without joints!  
Surrounding her was an army of fist-sized creatures, that faintly resembled clams with two hinges instead of just one. Stretchable, slimy tentacles like elongated oysters emerged from their insides, and shaped a two to three legged walking machinery of various lengths. Some had nothing but little stubs to hobble on, others were as high as the female that seemed to be their master. They were making a blubbery, high-pitched noise, like guinea pigs drowning in oil. It was an army in triangular formation, and they were turning to face me.

"What the hell are you?" I shrieked, unable to control my voice. The sound of tiny little moisture nubs shuffling over the ground, and organs floating freely, was enough to make me gag. The stench was salty and musky, like rotten fish buried in soil. Today was simply not a good day for my nose.  
"Got something stuck in your ears? I said: What the hell are you?"  
When I looked around for answers, I noticed that there were piles of these creatures scattered around the place, softly motioning to and fro. I walked towards one heap, and realized that there was a human hand sticking out in between them. I looked around, and there were legs and hands and ears sticking out of the dense piles everywhere, cramping up, quivering, reaching for help that nobody could provide. Those people had been wrapped up like Christmas presents, hidden underneath layers of slime and grey hard shells. I could see and smell them dying. They'd be dead if I didn't get these critters off them immediately.

I raced to the next pile, skidded the last few feet on my knees, and immediately clawed one of the fist-sized shells. I tugged with all my power, groaning a battle cry, but they wouldn't budge. They held together like one solid, ugly-ass rock formation. Hitting them with my chainsaw didn't even make a crack. My patience was wearing thin, so I screamed my anger towards the humanoid.  
"Why are you attacking these people?!"  
I tried to squeeze my fingers into the itsy bitsy gaps between creatures, but only ended up scratching across the surface. I was in the middle of a haul, for another violent clout, when a tentacle shot out in between a sudden opening. It made one slobbery strike, coating me and itself in slime before it disappeared again. It happened so fast that I could not stop my movement anymore. On impact, I slipped off the surface and crashlanded on the ground, and got a good faceful of dirt. The tentacle slapped my ass, I was sure, but when I turned my head, it was inside the rock again. The acrid smell in the air was turning sour and chemical, and muffled moans of agony inside the rocks came more uncontrolled.  
"I'm here to help! Can anybody move? Anyone?"  
No responses but wiggling piles of pain. I positively was the only one left standing. I think that one of the heaps may have been Dr Armitage, but I never saw him get assaulted.  
  
"I'm not new to the business, you little bastards. You, lady monster in the middle, explain yourself! Or I'll explain everything with my _chainsaw_!" As they approached me on their unsteady legs, I stared into the mucus faces of one of these things. I noticed deformed little snouts right in their center. Wait. Rodentclam hybrids? Really? I mean, I've seen people deformed into the weirdest things, but that must have been the weirdest Deadite up to date. If it was one at all.  
"What are these?"  
I blindly punched one soft target wobbling at chest height. On impact, it swiftly wrapped its arms around my hand, round and round, like a greedy tentacle airscrew. It had no teeth alright, but it strangled my arm like a python. I wiggled my limbs, and its tentacles only extended, reaching up to my shoulder.  
“Come on, somebody can talk around here, right? Because I'll just mow you down like unkempt lawn, if nobody speaks up!!”  
I could feel an acidic sensation on my forearm, and an excruciating pain. They were emitting some weird substance, and it was eroding my flesh right in front of my eyes. I ripped one of them off with my bare hand, slicing it down right in the middle using my trusted chainsaw, causing a highpitched uproar in the others, and increased violence.

"I freed the lab rats...”  
So she finally decided to speak to me.  
“...and gave them the power to get revenge on their abusers."  
The master creature's voice sent a violent shiver down my spine, and I froze for a moment. She was definitely a she, speaking English with a Boston accent.But it was blunt, deeper, unfocused, moist. The sounds came from her throat, but they didn't seem to come from her vocal cords. I was listening to an inhuman sound like a deaf tongue-less girl talking in her sleep, with a mouth full of jello.  
"These are rats?!"  
Fair enough, there were bristles of thin hair on the grey-purple shell of these double-mouthed clam creatures. It was tempting to just believe her word instead of going into detail. No matter what they were, I needed them gone. They slowly approached me with their long-legged, menacing wobble. Number-wise, they were enough to coat me in three layers, at least.

"Alright sweetheart, where is the Necronomicon? What did you read from it? I mean, I just guess it was you, because you're the only thing with a voice around. Do you even know what you were doing?"  
I started my chainsaw and flashed a broad grin at the beasts around me. With a roundhouse slash, I sliced a couple of those extra-long clams into bite-sized morsels. The clear fluid gushing from the cuts delivered the savory sauce, like a serving of thick spit.  
"So you figured that it was the Necronomicon who made all this possible? I am impressed. I didn't think you would manage to draw the conclusion."  
She added, without motioning to join the fight.  
Then it dawned to me. That height, that frame, that speech melody. It was the cute brunette I had seen the other day! The one who knew about spell books, the one who knew I was looking for the Necronomicon. She was just a little more naked now. But not the way I like.  
"Wait, it's you, isn't it? The Beatnik chick with the politics major! Well just look how unattainable the Necronomicon really is, huh? You just wanted me out of the picture so you could have it all to yourself, didn't you?"  
  
The mutilated creatures around me vibrated, and I was already getting optimistic. It looked like they were losing it. But oh, was I wrong. With a sloshing sound, the severed appendages expanded to full size again, regenerating in an instant. I cursed under my breath and restarted my chainsaw with a buzz.  
"You are correct, I used the Necronomicon. But I didn't plan to, originally. Not until I realized its potential for political power. This is going to send a message. They won't listen to a politics undergraduate, but they will listen to an army of superior creatures. Oh, and don't struggle, they won't kill you. They need skin, muscle and bone to grow. But they won't let you die."  
I looked around me, and I was closely encircled. They edged closer. I braced myself. The critters all at once latched onto me, wrapping themselves around my limbs, squeaking in panic. I joined their squeaks, and waved my limbs frantically, just to get them off.  
“God dammit, I'd like to keep what's left of me!”  
The firm tentacles wrapped around my chainsaw, the front handle, the housing, the starting pull handle, the bar. They turned it off. I could hardly use it against them anyway, they were far too close. I would have to slice myself into pieces.  
  
“How is that even supposed to work? Only my skin, muscle and bone? That would only leave my organs!"  
I stared at her with one uncovered eye and froze. Another oyster-slug-tentacle slapped into my face and I grimaced to make it to move. She was only organs and that skinless head, floating, grinning, an all-new zero-percent body-fat shape made entirely of guts.  
"Wait, did they eat you? Is that what happened to you?"  
She smiled, and it was the most horrifying grin that had ever adorned a woman.  
"I didn't know that this was going to happen, but I quite enjoy the breeze. My whole body burns, but I move with perfect control over my organs. I control my heartbeat. I control my liver. I can even control my bowel movements!"  
"Ewww. Well, congratulations on being potty-trained."  
The clams drew their net tighter around me and I wheezed. My movements were getting heavier and more rigid, but I forcefully started to walk towards her.  
"What, don't you like the edgy look?"  
"I find it a bit too... revealing."  
I walked on, groaning under the burning sensation and tightening grip. Her army of creatures had by then encrusted me in a painful armor of hairy shells, but I could still see with one eye, and move, albeit very slowly.

"What kind of sick message are you trying to send, huh?”  
I punched the critters off my chainsaw, somehow managed to grasp the starting pull handle. I pulled it. I lifted my baby, and we were both ready and buzzing with excitement.  
"Even if people won't die from this, what are you trying to accomplish?"  
I made a jab, but she hovered to the side, dodging it.  
"I was thinking: We should not subjugate and exploit another group, as they will rise someday, and do the same unto us. Oppression leads to counter oppression."  
I did a follow-up slash, but this time, I scraped her arm. It was close to impossible to move with all those things wrapping me up like a cocoon.  
"Well, and you're a lead example, aren't you! Is that really what you wanted? Sorry honey, but I can't let you do that. Your oppression ends now!"  
Distracted by her own bleeding arm, she didn't see my chainsaw coming. She stared at the guts emptying themselves in a fountain of slime, blood and faeces, shrieking with confusion. I winded up for the last blow. And slash, pop went her head, and gone was the magic! It plummeted to the ground like I had cut its strings, and fountains of blood and bile and all other fluids spouted from the open tubes, and they lost firmness like a gardening hose running out of water. The intestines flopped to the ground like deflated balloons, shriveled up, and left a redbrown pile of goo.

In a deafening shriek like a tinnitus choir, all the clam-critters uncurled and flooded to the remains of their master. They surrounded the goo, intertwining their tentacles, and shaped a woven circle. Their soft rocking made it almost look like they were mourning her, and performing some sort of ritual for condolences.  
A battlefield of eroded human bodies surrounded me, barely alive but alive nonetheless, and they were slowly starting to writhe and groan. They were in horrible pain, their open wounds still sizzling with acid, but they would survive. They would live.

"Hey, can anybody call an exterminator? We got a bad case of clamtacles."  
And there came Dr Armitage, with a few other librarians, a fishing net and a glass cage in their inventory.  
"Move! We're gonna catch them. They're distracted now." I did as he said and witnessed the scrawny librarians catch themselves a swarm of confused, mourning somethings. Weirdly efficient for the regular Joe, you know, who doesn't deal with creatures like that every day. Thinking back to all the headlines I've seen in the newspapers, maybe they did deal with this more often than other city folk had to.  
"Nice job, so, are you going to burn them?"  
"Burn them? We're going to keep and study them! How brutish, to think of murder..."  
"Well, that's just my two cents, you know, they seem pretty dangerous and they've been summoned by a pretty dangerous book."  
"All the more reason to study them."  
I groaned, too tired to discuss things with stubborn old Dr Know-it-all. If they wanted to risk it, sure, I may not be around to save them another time.  
"So, as you can see, the book isn't really... safe... in your little secret book vault. I told you. And I can help you. You saw what I can do, right? I'm your man."  
He narrowed his eyes.  
"...seeing the increasing threats at hand, I'm willing to have another discussion about this."  
"Damn yeah! You won't regret your decision, Doc." As the paramedics arrived, they picked up the surviving human wreckage. They swept what was left of 'her' into a plastic bag, probably for further investigations. "She got the right idea, but all the wrong methods." I said and shook my head. I always hated to see idealists go. Especially when they're cute and possibly into me.

You could easily see that Dr Armitage still wasn't a huge fan of mine, but he didn't ask questions about my unexplained chainsaw hand, so hey, what more could I ask for. Also, he finally lead me to the restricted access reading room for ancient forbidden occult literature. I could hardly believe it, this was the moment I've been waiting for, this was my red carpet, my final triumph. Sure, there were more Necronomicons to be found, but I wouldn't let that spoil my sensation of a happy ending wellearned.

 _Congratulations, Ash. You survived and actually saved every single person involved._ _That's a new one. Well, except for the Beatnik chick, but well, she had it coming.  
_ Of course my inner demon was chiming in, too late for the show, as always. Only joining for immature or unnerving commentary.  
 _Now, you can finally destroy the Necronomicon... and you'll be going on a date with that cute doctor tonight! What was his name? Cain. Very biblical...Your life really has taken a turn for the better, or hasn't it?  
_ It was hard to cherish the moment, strutting down the library hallway, when a Deadite was babbling over your own thoughts. Why couldn't he just shut up for once? Dan was a great catch, and I was on the road to success. Was he jealous that I was finally coming out on top?  
 _We'll see whether Dan let's you be on top... you're not much of a top guy, are you Ash...  
_ Ah fuck dammit, I thought I'd already suppressed that memory!  
 _Don't you want to practice before you get too close to him? What happens if you're really bad in bed when you're with men?  
_ What the hell was that supposed to mean. I'm passionate, romantic and funny. I know how to use my one good hand, my mouth, my pelvis.  
 _How can you really know? You only had sex with a man once. Oh, and that was with me! And you didn't really do much of anything there... in fact, you were pretty boring, Ash.  
_ I was what?  
 _I did all the work, and you were just lying there, moaning, ahhh, give it to me, mhh, oh yeah, fuck me harder...  
_ I-I had never said that. And I was sure Dan would be understanding and appreciate me no matter what. Right? I'm good with women, I should be even better with men! I'm a man, I know what men like.  
 _But why risk it? What if he's testing you, and you screw it up? Aw, you could've had something beautiful...  
_ Well, you're probably not going to practice with me, are you?  
 _What if I would?_  
He almost got me there. I almost lost it. Back to reality, Ash, focus, this is your moment.

There I was, suddenly standing in the vastness of the reading room. Next to me were Dr Armitage and two other librarians, surrounding us like bodyguards. The shelves were filled to the brim with thick, worn tomes, and I did not want to think about how many Necronomiconlike cult books were stored in here, ready to bring about all shades of apocalypse.  
 _Ash, I could practice with you right now. Don't you want to go to the restroom? We could have a good time..._  
I followed the others, towards a bookstand in the middle of the room. It was lit like something of importance. All these years made the prospect of finally destroying that damned book more important than a quickie with my Deadite double now, and I could feel his frustration in my chest, parallel to my own triumph. Dr Armitage gestured towards the wooden booth, with an extensive motion of grandeur.  
"So here we have it. The Necronomicon Ex Mortis. It's..."  
"...well, not there. So where is it?" I completed.  
  
There was no book. But there were empty faces all around me. The only sound was in my own mind, a little snicker full of schadenfreude. My face subtly twisted in an expression torn between anguish and disappointment, but out came a desperate laughter, since I should have seen it coming, and was a moron for being optimistic for a moment. "I guess somebody didn't return their books on time!”  
Dr Armitage broke down into gross sobbing. The usually so dignified man lost all self-control and fell to the floor.  
"Why did I ever have to leave Providence! I just had to go for the higher position, hadn't I?! What is this place! WHAT is this place?!" I wasn't going to let it get me down for good. Screw this, saving the world could wait until tomorrow. There was still enough time to get ready for my date and grant myself some indulgence in denial and self-distraction.

   
The Oldsmobile Delta 88 came to a slow, rolling halt atop of Leyendecker hill. Some places are just common knowledge, so it wasn't hard to find the goto makeout place for Arkham's teens. The horny youngsters wouldn't arrive before eight, pretty sure about that, so it was safe for the old man to have a little nostalgia trip on his own, without getting disgusted looks or anybody calling the cops for sexual harassment of minors. But then again, these kids had probably seen far more disturbing sights than a man fucking his double on the backseat of a car.  
"Alright, come out, come out, wherever you are." I held onto the driving wheel, tapping my fingers in waves of anticipation. The right hand gave a more metal clank, which enabled me to bring more variation to the random song I was tapping. I looked into the back view mirror, noticing that the dark circles under my eyes were faintly better than yesterday. But I was pale, bruised, and had a weird snakeshaped burn on my cheek. Hopefully, that wouldn't become another scar. But otherwise, I looked pretty okay for the situation at hand. Suddenly, I saw myself start to speak, even though I never started moving my mouth.

"Do you really think you look okay? I think you forgot what 'okay' really means... poor, poor Ash." The face in the back view mirror bulged beyond the flat surface, and I pressed myself into the seat.  
"I don't think I'll ever understand what you are and how you work." I chuckled, unsettled but excited.  
"Well, right now, I'm your instructor for the afternoon..." He was suddenly sitting next to me, on the codriver's seat. I haven't noticed him emerging from me. He had appeared out of thin air. "So, little Ash is afraid to not be enough man for his sweetheart Dan Cain. Understandable. Maybe you should be more afraid of killing him though, like all your other partners before him. But hey, one step at a time." He bent forward with a mean smile, threatening with the invasion of my personal bubble.  
"He's not gonna die, smartass. I won't involve him in any undead business, I'll simply separate business and private life. Now drop the bullshit and give me some sugar, you bastard." I grabbed his face with both my hands and reduced the distance to zero, pressing my lips onto his. They were eerily cold but as soft as a human's would be, and this scent was just prominently absent. This was better than the stench of the undead, and a welcome break for my poor nose.

But he violently pushed me away, scrunching up his nose in revulsion. "What do you think you're doing?"  
"Kissing you? I thought we were gonna go for a little, y'know, hankypanky."  
He shook his head with an arrogant sneer, but slowly hooked an arm around my neck. I smiled flirtatiously, but quickly lost my wit when his face melted right in front of my eyes, revealing his enchanting minced meat skin type. "THIS is a kiss."  
He pushed me down into the car seat, snaking an arm around my waist, and pressed me close to his body. He didn't waste any time going slow, his ravished tongue pushed into my mouth like a violent assault. I shivered and sighed like a dumb schoolgirl, wrapping one leg around his hips and both arms around his body. Clinging to him with greed, I felt him heat up, more ravenous with every degree. The door was hard and uncomfortable against my shoulder and nape, but I melted into his rough touch. I was getting submissive again, and this sure wasn't good, but it was so hard to dismiss. But then, he suddenly dropped me, making me hit my head on the window crank handle.

"See, you're still boring. It comes as no surprise that you prefer men now, you want somebody to treat you real ugly. You're such a masochist at heart, Ashley."  
"I'm no masochist, I just like to be dom... d" I stopped myself and felt my cheeks burn up with embarrassment. Yeah right, tell your enemy that you're into power play, tell him you're a kinky bottom. Man, his dark grey open flesh wound of a face distracted me so much, I couldn't even focus on defending my honor.  
  
"Do you have to keep this ugly face? You look like a zombie. Come on, pretty up for me, honeycheeks."  
He drew his lips into a smile, and rebuild his facial structure to look like me. But he didn't stop at that. More layers of flesh and skin blistered and bubbled and remodelled themselves, shifting to create something else entirely. I was then facing Dan Cain.  
"What, Dan? Okay, uh, thanks buddy, I appreciate the effort, but... maybe just look like me. I'm most comfortable with that."  
"Don't you wanna see how it looks like when Dan is giving you a blowjob? Don't you wanna see how Dan looks when he's getting fucked?"  
He petted my cheek with one hand, and my crotch with the other, towering on top of me.  
"Maybe I do, alright, but not like this! I'm having a date with him tonight, remember, and I'd rather have the real deal than pamper myself with makebelief roleplay. Feels like... cheating."  
  
Again, his living, shifting muscles rebuilt his whole facial structure.  
"Maybe you'd prefer this?" He said, now with the face of Herbert West.  
I screamed and slapped my palm into his face, but I could not escape it, the small face was too recognizable under my touch.  
"Are you trying to TRAUMATIZE me? That's Dan's housemate! That's a no-go!"  
He chuckled, clearly having reproduced the vocal chords as well, as he was imitating the voice perfectly.  
"This morning, you were pretty aroused by the fantasy of Dan and Herbert engaging in sexual activity... so I thought you'd enjoy this too."  
"But that's like this thing about Lesbians! Just because I like to watch Lesbian porn, doesn't mean I want to join... alright maybe not the best comparison. But why are we even having that discussion when? Aren't I supposed to practice my moves?"

He gazed at me with lowered eyelids, grinding Herbert's narrow hips against my crotch. I felt as guilty and anxious as I haven't have since accidentally peeping on Ann in the girls' locker room in high school. His nimble hands roamed my chest, sneaking underneath my dark orange flannel shirt, playing with my nipples. His wonderful ass was lewdly rocking in sudden, mean thrusts. He was rubbing himself against my frustrated boomstick with mockery in his smile. He was smaller now, so I might have a physical advantage. So I seized his wrists, pushed him away with my upwards motion, grabbed his behind and firmly pulled him onto my lap. I buried my face in the crook of his neck. He was so warm that I almost couldn't tell he was dead. Gently dragging my tongue along his throat, I sneakily grinded my pelvis against his behind, feeling myself grow and pulse inside my tightening corduroy pants.  
"Ugh, come on, please turn back into me. This is so awkward..." I avoided eye contact and spread hungry kisses on the skin in front of me. Arriving at the chin, I noticed that it was huge and broad. This could only be mine!  
"Thank god, you're back to normal!" He smirked down at me, opening his belt buckle.  
"I just have to seize the opportunity to show you your own sex faces... this is going to be lots of fun."  
I laughed helplessly, because he was right, this was going to be fun for him, and potentially a nightmare for me.

I flipped him around and pushed him against the car window, his cheek and hands flat against the surface.  
"Oh, so you want to play it rough after all? Let's see how skilled you are, Ash. Give me 'Chosen One' style seduction."  
"Seduction my ass. You're already in for it, now it's time to get to business."  
I pulled down his pants and opened my own. My got busy preparing his entrance, fingering him sluggishly, seductively.  
"So, how's this, big boy? Got your G-spot yet?"  
"That's what women have... you're looking for my prostate, if anything."  
"Oh. Yeah, I knew that. So, got your P-spot yet?"  
"Not really..." His sultry voice demonstrated how much he enjoyed denying me.  
"How about this?" I squeezed my finger deeper into him, twisting and turning, frankly, no fucking idea what I was doing.  
"Let's say you really need the practice..." He laughed, but pushed his behind towards me, leading my fingers along the way. He still didn't show any reaction though, almost as if he couldn't feel anything, regardless of what I did. Almost as if he was nothing but a hallucination, but that wouldn't have made sense either, because I had a way more erotic imagination than this. Suddenly, he reached behind to grab my wrist and pull it away.

"I think it's time to move on. Maybe you're better with your cock." It was a little confusing to have him express an actual desire for the boomstick, but heck, my groins were already aching and had no time to be worried about his weird way of saying things. I sure wouldn't tell him to take it slower. I held onto his hips and held them in place, positioning myself behind him. He was kneeling on the seat, bent legs underneath his body, and his ass the end at the nice curve of his spine. I spit into my hand and spread it on his entrance and my hardon, as it was the only type of lubrication I had available.  
"Just how much knowledge did you get from watching porn? Be honest." He sighed, shaking his head. "Listen, and listen closely. You got to enter as quick as possible. Like tearing off a bandaid." He continued.  
"Yeah right, real funny. Where do you get your knowledge from, snuff movies?"  
I gently pushed his upper body lower, pressing him against his own knees, folding him up. I had a little complication positioning myself in the tightness of the car, but I managed.  
"I'm here to help you, remember? Now, it's only a successful fuck if both sides are bleeding..."  
"Alright, that's not even funny anymore. I don't give a damn if you're some demon or not."  
"How can you tell I'm not telling the truth? You haven't got a clue how to please a man..."  
With a shivering hand to guide my erection, I carefully squeezed myself in, and it felt fantastically overwhelming. I closed my eyes, slumped onto his back and sighed with pleasure. I gave his skin a kiss, determined and thrilled.  
"Oh I'll get that mocking tone out of you... I'll show you making love, the Ash Williams way."  
  
I urged myself deeper, carefully beginning to grind back and forth far too gentle for this bastard. He didn't respond, but I wouldn't let myself be carried away by this irritation. I rolled my hips, unable to contain pleased grunts. I flinched as all car mirrors readjusted on their own with a sharp creak, all angles suddenly set to his face. Everywhere around me, I saw the reflection of a lustdistorted Ash Williams face, surrounding me like an accusation. Carefully, I started to increase the force of my hips, despite the weird feeling I had about this. It sent a shiver down my spine, to suddenly hear him moan, see him gasp for air, feel him tremble with arousal, like a dog in heat. What I was seeing was not my evil Deadite double as I knew him. This was me. Just that I was not looking like this right now, I was in charge. I started to wonder who I was. When did Ash Williams ever choose to have sex without any basic sympathy, only due to his own insecurities. I was a failure as a hero. I wasn't a villain either. And I probably wasn't that good a lover after all. On the battlefield, I'm the guy with the gun, in bed, I'm the guy with the hardon. I buried myself deep in the man underneath me, squeezing my eyes shut, thrusting to fight the empty feeling of my stomach. I pushed harder, evoking more lustful groans, and I knew it was fake, it was a mockery.

It didn't feel like I had to add any sounds on my own, since he already did it for me. The friction was enough to build up some good pressure, and it didn't feel any better than masturbating, probably even more mechanical. It was hard to focus on fantasies while he was imitating what I was supposed to sound like. I leaned my forehead against his nape, trying to imagine I was the one moaning, and not him. I reached around him and started to pump his shaft, to make it a little more real, but I doubt he even felt it. I felt utterly ridiculous.  
"Why don't you say anything?" I whined, with a trembling voice.  
"What sick game is this?!"  
  
With a violent shudder, I emptied myself and lost more than my sperm. I lost my dignity and my peace of mind. I withdrew and saw my own juice trickle down thighs that looked exactly like mine.  
"I guess we should go buy condoms for tonight. And probably get cleaned up too."  
But I was talking to the empty car seat underneath me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact 1: The abominations introduced in this chapter are not taken from any Lovecraft story, but an own fabrication. They were inspired by clams. And rodents. And rocks. And maybe the paintings of Salvador Dalí.
> 
> Fun Fact 2: Leyendecker Hill refers to J. C. Leyendecker, one of the most eminent American illustrators of the early 20th century, known for his gorgeous, fashionable magazine cover illustrations. His way of depicting beautiful men in sharp suits created a bit of a debate regarding his sexual orientation. Besides the fact that he never married and lived with a man.


	5. The Good, The Date, and the Fugly (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Ash embark on the greatest adventure of all: Dating each other.  
> (POV: Dan Cain)

Those days, I could only think of my friend Herbert West with deepest concern and a lurking fear. As he had a calculating cold mind, every action was a means to an end. And even his strong loyalty and odd gestures of affection towards me were nothing to be misinterpreted. Herbert West, who never partook in anything half-heartedly, wanted me to be fully his, but to him, the word 'boyfriend' meant something totally different than to the rest of the world. I was frightened to go along, as the term would imply far more to me than could ever be comfortable for him. He had my loyalty, despite my growing doubt about the moral integrity of our secret activities. I valued his company and his poetically brilliant theories, and in the beginning, I had even believed in our success and common future. He still did.  
Herbert West was the most jealousy-consumed person I had known in my entire life. His possessive claims and their implication did make me wonder how it would be, handing myself over in my entirety. It was startling, to picture myself getting fully submerged in his immoral actions, unable to stop him and unable to discern right from wrong. Right now, I still retained a knowledge of right and wrong, a _knowledge_ (though my actions frequently posed a contradiction). What he needed was a friend to stop him, not a sheep to follow him, for his own and mankind's good. My second crippling fear was that of corrupting our deep, albeit strange, friendship. And falling in love with him, a fatal consequence. I didn't know what the extent of his affections were, but they certainly didn't include a need for sexual, romantic or even sensual intimacy. He was pleading me to be his, and I was trying my best to avoid it. He didn't know that what he was pleading for was something he would never want.

"Daniel… I would be far more careful, if I were you."  
Herbert was lurking behind me as I was arranging the groceries for the evening to come, and his ominous whispering made my skin crawl.  
"As long as you're not going to do any weird experiments while I'm not with you..." I replied, "I don't see why we should be in any danger. You should be careful doing whatever you're going to spend your evening with. But me? I'm just going to have a nice date with a nice guy. I will be sufficiently careful where required, okay?"  
I heard him gasp in melodramatic shock, and when I turned, he wore a face to match.  
"Yeah, I said it, and I know you don't like to hear it. But since you're probably going to run into us some time tonight-"  
"Well, maybe a condom isn't going to save you from the dangers this thug could get you into!"  
"Thug?" I squeezed my eyes into narrow slits and tilted my head, grabbing the sealed chicken filets from the plastic bag on the table.  
"What do you mean, 'thug'? Who's spent more time with him, you or me? He's a wildcard, alright, but he's not a thug."  
"Don't you find it suspicious that he's come to Arkham, of all places, not for studies at Miskatonic University, and not for a job?" He smiled as if he was onto something.  
"Well, not a proper job, in any case." He sneered.  
"Oh come on, Herbert, there are countless explanations. Maybe he's moved here for family or friends, we don't know that."  
"Wouldn't he have mentioned them by now?"  
"Maybe he's just moving around for small job opportunities. Maybe he's just enjoying the freedom!"  
"The freedom to work as an undercover cop who's been hired to find information about us?"  
"Don't be absurd! You're not even painting a coherent picture, Herbert, is he a thug or a cop?"  
"Maybe both."  
"He's around our age, that's a time where other people are backpacking through Europe. He might just be on a self-discovery journey. I actually like that about him. He's adventurous, he's independent, he's optimistic!"  
"Are we not adventurous, Dan?"  
I crouched in front of the fridge, and put away the eggplants and tomato paste so slowly that I was almost coming to a halt. I leaned my forehead against the middle board inside the refrigerator, taking a deep breath.  
"Herbert, not… that type of adventure."  
I slowly turned around, ready for his convincing faces, and ready for the ache that comes along with withstanding them.  
"Dan, why a man? Am I not enough for you?"  
His puppy eyes hurt; and his choice of words was ridiculous.  
"Herbert, just because I spend time with another person, doesn't mean you mean less to me."  
I huffed and rubbed my eyes with thumb and index finger. He was making this sound like a romantic matter, and even though I knew it wasn't, he knew that it would still influence me a great deal more if phrased that way.  
"Please let me have this. I need somebody to be emotionally and physically intimate with. I'm taking care of my basic needs. I need to have those met before I can be of any use for you."  
"So you're dating this thug for me, are you?"  
He looked down at me, with eyes as cold as freezerburn.  
But the doorbell rang; both Herbert and I jumped.  
"I'm dating him either way, Herbert." I said, leaving to get the door.

At the entrance door, my anticipated date stood framed like a Norman Rockwell cover illustration. His hair was neat, too neat, and clung to his skull, making his face look absurdly large in comparison. He was wearing a starchy burgundy button-up, and a single flower stuck in his metal gauntlet like an anti-war pop art piece of some kind.  
"Well, who is this? I thought I asked out Ash Williams, not his suburban twin brother from _I love Lucy. _"__  
With an awkward sudden hurry, he combed his hair with his bare fingers. The ruffled strands created a somehow more natural, albeit dorky look.  
"Sorry, guess I just got a little worked up over this." He seemed as starched as his shirt.  
"I haven't been in the dating scene for quite a while. Not properly, that is. A kiss here, a flirt there, even a bit of getting horizontal, if I got lucky… But dates? Nah. Let alone with…"  
I shook my head to interrupt his train of thought and reached for his wrist, pulling him in.  
"With a man?" I sighed. "Hey, the rose is a nice touch, but you shouldn't have."  
With me dropping the word, he remembered the flower in his hand and eagerly pushed it towards my chest. We were standing in the kitchen and Herbert was nowhere to be seen, which I was very thankful for.  
"Well... hey, uh, do you know about flower symbolism? Because I had a chat with the florist, you see, and if she tricked me into buying flowers that tell you to eat dirt cake with a side of sewer water, I refuse to take responsibility."  
"Oh, roses are usually a safe bet." I said.  
"The yellow rose -and I'm just quoting by the way-," he continued. "is a symbol for friendship. But the red tips of the petals symbolize budding passion. Sparks turning into bush fires, if you catch my drift.“  
He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned broadly. I couldn't help but laugh at the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. I patted his arm in a thankful gesture to let my hand linger for a while. I could feel his high body temperature through his shirt and wondered what it would be like to handle all of his heat with my bare hands.  
"You really did your homework, Ash, I'm impressed!"  
"Naturally! I wasn't sure if-"  
"If flowers are also appropriate when dating somebody who is not a woman? Come on, you don't really want to ask that, do you?"  
"Well…" He did want to ask it.  
"Well, of course not! What else could I have gotten you? A can of motor oil?"  
I burst into a laughter so uncontrolled that I had to cover my mouth to contain the least bit of dignity.  
"Motor oil?"  
"Yeah, something practical! For lubricating and oiling tasks in the car, you know. To keep things slick."  
"Did you really mean to say 'motor oil'?"  
"Well-" He finally picked up on my flirtatious remark, and I could see the leer growing in his face.  
"Well, I know of a few more things that might need lubricating, but I didn't want to make any assumptions on the first date."

He curiously observed me while I prepared our dinner, and even helped out slicing the eggplants. I noticed that despite his metal prosthesis, he wasn't clumsy at all, and knew how to handle his tools. The twitching of his exposed muscles, framed by his rolled-up sleeves, was quite the dessert served early.  
"You really seem to know your deal, Dan, very fancy." He turned the page of the Italian cookbook, trying to sneak a preview of the finished dish, but I playfully slapped his hand with the blunt handle of the knife.  
"Oh yeah, sorry."  
He continued the slicing, smoothly and mechanically.  
"I suppose I'm more of a survivalist in the cooking field. I can make something edible out of anything, no matter where I am. Living off frozen burritos, taquitos, hot pockets, beef jerky, frosted fruit pies and donuts gets old, so I tried to bring some variety to it. Mixing it up. And yeah, that was a comprehensive and sad food pyramid, if you add some beer, some soda and the occasional dinner invite."  
I scanned his face, looking for clues. It had been Herbert's words of jealousy that brought the idea to my mind, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to shake the thought if I wouldn't get it out of the way right in the beginning of the evening.  
"What exactly is it that you're traveling for? Just curious." I asked, and my curiosity was showing more than I had intended to.  
I eyed him from the corner of my eye while throwing the sliced chicken filets into the frying pan. The deafening sizzle postponed his immediate response.  
"Well, let's say I'm an… antique's hunter. And Arkham was supposed to have quite the extraordinary finds."  
"So… you're probably not very good at finding or selling antiques if you need to get a job as a testee to get by.", I teased.  
"I- umh-… yeeeah. I should probably take a class in… finances or something. Business management. Does your university offer that to independents? Though, I must admit, I'm not necessarily planning to sell all the goods I find, so I always end up being pretty broke. I… do it for the adventure, you know."  
It probably wasn't the whole truth. It was in the wry smile, his fluctuating vocal pitch. But he lied so charmingly that I smile back nevertheless Instead, I decided to cook a prune and olive chicken with aubergine antipasti for him, as planned. His greediness whilst eating supported his statement. That man hadn't eaten properly in a long time.

"How about that movie now?" I suggested with a full stomach and an equally satisfied guest.  
Entering the living room, I presented a part of my VHS collection, especially selected to fit the occasion. Some of these tapes used to be Meg's. Our belongings had shifted between households as if there was no distinction between her place and mine, and sometimes, we lost track of whose stuff was whose. I suppose the Halsey home still has at least one of my sweaters under a bed, unless the police evacuated every last piece of furniture.  
"When Harry met Sally?" Ash read the title aloud.  
"Nine 1/2 weeks? Flashdance? Hey, and there's Grease! Aren't all of these, uh, romantic flicks?"  
I gave him a smile and shrugged one of my shoulders.  
"What's this, La Boum? Woah, hey, but that's porn, isn't it? And judging from the cover, the parents are watching while they get crackin'."  
"La Boum is a French coming-of-age comedy. Not exactly X-rated.."  
"French, huh? Oh, and what's the name of this one, Gross Anatomy? Now THAT must be sexploitation." He wiggled his eyebrows.  
"Are you looking for porn? Because you won't find any, not in this pile."  
Even though the moment had taken a turn for the awkward, Ash didn't seem to lack a taste for romance. The flower had been a heart-felt gesture, not just a means to an end.  
"Naaah." He scrunched his face into an odd, awkward grin.  
"I was just messing with you. I sure am open for raunchy flicks, yeah, but I'm not considering them to be a necessity for a good first date."  
Ash casually threw himself on the couch, leaving the VHS tapes to their own. He spread his stout body to claim space, writhing his hips into place. His lowered chin, with the coy upward glance, was all the invitation I needed.  
"If anything, the only hot stuff I'd really like to watch today is standing right in front of me." , he said.  
I approached him slowly. I placed my right knee on the couch.  
"Yup, riiight in front of me." His hands were already in mid-air, twitching to slide around my body.  
I placed my fingers on the stiffening hand resting on his own knee, and I leaned forward to gently usher him to lie down.  
Shifting his position he lunged out his arm to not squish it under his own body. The motion accidentally threw over a stack of books, which were standing on the side table next to the seat.  
"O-oh. Oh, hey, what do we have here?"  
He took one of the paperbacks and flipped it around for examination. It was 'The Dangers of Dating Dr Senzacuore' of the Medical Romance series.  
"Is this your romance dime novel collection, or is your roommate a closet romantic?" He asked, lying underneath me. His eyes swiftly switched between the book cover and me, and he was one blink away from discarding the book and flinging his arms around me. The signals were very obvious.  
"Herbert? Oh no, he won't read anything that isn't a textbook, I'm sure. No, Meg gave me one of these. And then another. Soon after, it became some kind of running gag."  
"Oh, I had a running gag with Linda too. It was about her buying me… everything that had 'Ashley' on it. Keychains, necklaces, mugs, you name it."  
He placed the book back on the table, gazing into my eyes.  
"Meg brought along every novel that reminded her of me. If the lover was called Dan, she'd buy it. If he was a doctor, she'd buy it. If the cover man had a hairdo like mine, she'd buy it."  
"Hey, you're right, you look exactly like this shirtless pirate hunk on the cover of that one! Uncanny. I bet an open, old-timey shirt like this would look nice on you, too."  
I combed my fingers through my hair, which had grown significantly after Meg died. I owned the novel long before my hair started getting unkempt and wild.  
"At first, it was just a joke… But then she started to read them to me, and with time, they grew on me."  
"Ah, so this IS your collection?" He picked another one, teasing both me and himself. I slumped down on him, getting a little impatient. We were both aware of how painfully obvious our horniness was becoming. The book he had picked was another medical themed novel. 'Doctor's Decision', with its tagline: 'They found that dedication to their work was no substitute for love'. The cover showed two lifeless faces of opposite genders, staring ahead with heavy meaning but no expression.  
"Yeah, what can I say, it's a guilty pleasure." I took the book from him and put it back.  
"I like a bit of escapist fantasy. They're really low maintenance, no high literature."  
"Well, everyone needs a bit of simple entertainment sometimes. Hell, I'm re-watching Sergio Leone flicks all the time, nothing wrong about that. Some good old-fashioned battles of good vs evil vs morally somewhere in the grey area." He flung an arm around my neck and licked his lips.  
"Are these novels any good?" He asked, his voice raspy and deep and certainly not really asking about the book.  
He snatched and opened up one of them with his one free hand, shoving it in between our faces, and I groaned with frustration.  
It was Western-themed by accident. He read a sample out loud, using his best porno voice impression.  
"Brisco gazed into Dixie's eyes that were as deep as the lake at Grave's End,  
and he softly whispered: 'Missy, I hope you have some sandpaper with you, 'cause I got some wood for you to rub."  
His face twisted into second-hand embarassment and he tossed away the novel, as if he had just averted catching herpes.  
"Well, with a last name like County, no wonder you sound like a has-been people now trot in and out of as they please, with no border control."

He relaxed into the position of lying underneath me, and gazed into my eyes with a confident, calm smirk. The hand that was flung around my neck was gently fondling it, pulling me lower. I gently bumped my nose against his, and both our faces split into a grin.  
"You up for this, Dan?", he whispered, circling his fingertips around the edge of the button of my pants.  
"I'm not quite 'up', but I'm half-way there." I replied, raising my eyebrows repeatedly. He chuckled, clearly admitting that he wasn't the only one who could pull off corny one-liners. Ash opened the button of my pants, slowly unzipped me, and pushed them down my hips. I, at the time, was distracted by following his jaw line with my fingertips.  
"Wait-" I threw in. Ash startled and gave me an accusing look, as if I'd given him half a heart attack.  
"Let's put on a movie, any movie, so we have some alibi background noise. We're not alone in this house, after all. How about it?"  
"Yeah, yeah, right."  
He tugged off my sweater when I was already in the movement of leaving, and I had to struggle (with laughter, no less), to even get away from the couch.

Only covered by my briefs and button-up, I wobbled across the room to turn on the TV, working the VHS recorder without paying attention to the channel. By chance, it was on NBC, and by chance, it was time for the news, and by chance, they were reporting about the last thing I wanted to hear.  
"Surviving eye witnesses report milky eyes, discolored skin, violent behavior and an immunity to pain. Even when whole body parts went missing, the person in question would continue their rampage. They would sometimes laugh or grunt. It is recommended to stay at home and hold onto your weapon of choice. We have not found out whether the behavior can be blamed on violent movies, rock music or demons from deep below."  
When I turned with horror, I met Ash's stare that was as electrified as mine. He had risen as well, frozen in mid-movement, and none of us was able to say anything witty or even coherent. He had stopped with his pants halfway down and his shirt opened, but didn't make a move to continue. And I wondered why he looked just as nervous as I did, as I was the one who should run and find my psychopathic co-lodger to avoid any further damage, as I was damn sure that Herbert had to be responsible for this. The description sounded all too familiar.  
"Let's not ruin our evening with what's on the news." I said "We're not the police, we can't do anything anyway."  
The deep guilt was clawing at my chest, but my loneliness and surge of egotism was stronger. My libido made me a stubborn man.  
"They say all types of weird things on the news sometimes, especially here. Ghosts, aliens, zombies, demons, deities, cryptids, it's like the newscasters are trying to outdo each other with these absurd fabrications. Don't worry about it, I have yet to actually see any of these fairytale creatures, and I've been living in Arkham a couple of years now."  
I hated lying to my new friend and potential lover, and I hated faking indifference when in reality, I felt responsible. I didn't enjoy pretending to be above all this. I never really am. Yet I was starting to think, nothing good ever came out of telling my loved ones about the dark things I do with my friend and colleague. It was time to acquire the habit of lying,to keep them safe. Only as long as I would need to get Herbert to stop. Or until I could manage to get away from him. Maybe Ash would give finally give me a reason to move away and start a new life. I felt embarrassed for thinking that far ahead on the first date, but my intuition was always quick to judge. And once I have made a decision, I couldn't change it (even when everything spoke against it).

"Let's put in the VHS and enjoy the evening instead, these zombies are not gonna come in here, after all. Why would they?", I suggested.  
Ash seemed troubled, but he forced a smile.  
"Yeah." His voice was flat with concern.  
"I agree. Let let the zombies have their Thriller dance performance, so be it, we've got better things to watch."  
"So you look forward to Nine 1/2 Weeks after all?"  
"I was talking about you. And me. You and me."  
His voice dropped as deep as his eyelids, and its bass pleasantly resonated in my chest.  
"I really want to get to know you better, Dan, and find out about your interests, but… We've got the whole night to boogie, and I really gotta shake my legs."  
I put on '9 1/2 Weeks' and rose. Neither of us cared to actually watch towards the screen. He pressed his lips together, and they curled into a roguish smirk, his gaze fixed and determined.  
"Come here, baby, and let me see those fancy underoos up close."

Following his suggestion, I hopped right back on the couch, and him too. I needlessly adjusted my position on his lap. Ash, growling at the tease, shoved his hands underneath my open button-up, and brushed it off my body, leaving the floor to deal with it. With a smooth movement, my undershirt was gone too. He had just begun to playfully stretch the waistband of my mid-waist red briefs, his index finger sliding along the raw line, when I dived into a kiss. We were both breathing more erratically, growing more excited by the second.  
"Geez, this is the first time I do the do with a real man…" He muttered excitedly, slowly pulling down my underwear.  
"What do you mean, 'a real man'?" He seemed caught off-guard and stopped mid-thigh.  
"Well, you know... until now, it was only… fantasies."  
I bowed down, gently pressing my nose and mouth against his cheek. Smirking, I murmured against his skin.  
"Whom did you fantasize about? Don't say it was me."  
"Uhh, no, of course not, it was, umh" He struggled, but removed my briefs clumsily nonetheless.  
"It was… John Travolta."  
My amused snort came unintentionally.  
"John Travolta?"  
He sat up, supporting himself on his forearms.  
"Hey, what's with the laughing, you don't even have to be into men to get electrified by those dance moves. You've seen Grease!"  
I pressed his shoulders towards the couch, persuading him to lean back and relax.  
"Let me get this straight though", he said.  
"In those little nighttime fantasies, baby doll Olivia was always in there… somewhere."  
My reply was silent, no words, but a gentle touch of his growing manhood hidden in the bulge of his boxer briefs. His answer, in turn, was a delighted whimper and the rolling of his eyes.  
"Ohhh, that's a damn fine spot for your hand, Dan, a damn fine spot…"  
When my fingers slid in, and seized the full length, his muscles went tense and nervous. He raised his groins up against my hand. My hand was squished in between our crotches, and I couldn't resist to thrust back. I could hear Ash's breath hitching underneath, and his erection feeling strangely squishy.  
"F-fuck-", he mumbled, suddenly all stiff. Except for the part that should be. He raised his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and gave me a long, awkward stare.  
"So, uh, you probably know what's coming now."  
"'This has never happened to me before?'"  
"Well, that would be a lie. But… it hasn't happened for a while!"  
I pulled my hand out of his underpants, and softly took his cheeks into my palms.  
"Nervous, huh? You said it yourself, we have all night to boogie. Don't worry about it."  
"Yeeeah." He laughed awkwardly. But there was a sudden change in his face, like an outbreak of a headache. His eyes were focused on something far away from sight.  
"I'm not going to join you…Not for this. Damn your-" He whispered to himself.  
"Did you talk to me?" I worried.  
"Uh, ahh yes! Umh, I said: I'll never be able to join you. Physically. Like this."  
"Yeah, I figured." I chuckled. "No sweat, we'll get it up, big boy."  
I took the flaccid member into my hands and gently let it slide through my fingers. He sighed happily.  
"Oh I hope so. I'd really do… This is definitely a matter of nervousness, and not of willingness, just to be clear."  
I kissed his chin, pumping his shaft more firmly.  
"That's what I was assuming."

He pulled my hand away, let our bodies touch, and immediately flung his arms around my waist and snatched my lips for a needy kiss. We were a heated, writhing knot.  
"Could you tell me one thing, Dan?", he gasped, grinding his hips against mine.  
"What's the rules of tops and bottoms? Should we… wrestle for it?"  
I chuckled and seized my current advantage; I grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over, pinning him to the couch. In any other situation, he probably would have overpowered me.  
"Wrestling sounds good." I teasingly bumped my hips against his behind. "Bump!"  
"Oh haha, very funny!" He wiggled, and I could hear him grin.  
I let him turn around underneath me, and I sat on his lap yet again.  
"You started it.", I teased, rubbing my behind againt his crotch.  
The next moment, the cool metal hand snaked into my hair, greedily pulling me down into a long kiss that was all lips. He let go with an emphasized smack. His forehead leaned against mine, and he affectionately petted the back of my head.  
"Can you reach into my pants? I got a surprise for you…"  
He fondled my nape more passionately, he was really getting into it, and his chest was rising heavily. Suddenly, there was a painful tug at my head.  
"Ah, shit, your hair- dammit- I'm so sorry-", he stuttered.  
My hair was stuck in his gauntlet, and there was no easy way to get it out.  
„Oh, uh, d-don't worry- just-“, I said.  
He helplessly tried to free it, tugging me to and fro.  
„Ah, ouch!“, I gasped.  
Only after a few tufts of hair had been tugged out, he managed to free it.  
"Sorry about that- umh- yeah- uh… oh yeah, we were talking about my pants."  
I took a deep breath and stroked my strained pericranium.  
"Ash, you're not wearing your pants anymore. If you wanted to make a joke about your penis, you missed the opportunity."  
"That's not what I meant! Well, you can get that one too, but that's not really a surprise anymore, is it."  
He gestured towards his exposed erection.  
"No, it's a condom, alright, there's a condom in my pocket."  
I reached down to fumble for his discarded pants, and fished out the little square foil package.  
"I could've given you one of mine, too."  
The couch table, the one with the piles of romantic dime novels on it, was my next destination to reach into. I waved the two condoms of dissimilar brands in front of his nose.  
"See, same size."  
He snatched one of the squares and opened it.  
"Well, look at that."  
He rolled the condom onto my erection, highly interested in every inch it coated. I did the same to his.  
"That's quite the impressive package you got there, Dan. Wow, I mean, phew!"  
"You only say that because we're almost the same size…"  
"Naaah."  
He grinned.  
"Well, maybe a little bit."  
He looked at me with silly schoolboy anticipation.  
"So, I guess I'll be using my fingers to prepare your love-hole now, yeah? You ok with that, hunk?"  
"Jesus Christ, Ash, 'love-hole'? In theory, yes, but with that word?"  
I gasped when his index finger slowly squeezed itself into me.  
"Ahh, alright then."  
I pushed myself onto his hand, and he dug deeper towards my insides, but nowhere near my prostate. It was clumsy and he was already starting to simulate the motions of a thrusting dick, as if there was no other way this could be done. But I could feel just how involved he was, and that made me involved too.  
"Ash, hey, easy there, you can just… massage and stretch it a little bit. Go easy on me."  
He immediately halted and then cautiously followed my instructions, albeit way too fast.  
"Sorry, is that better?"  
"Calm down, stud, this isn't a race."  
He groaned, leaned his head into the crook of my neck, and drew impatient little circles with his finger inside of me.  
I massaged his nape with alternating fingertips, sighing with satisfaction.  
"Mhh, yeah, this is a nice pace…. Now, get your hand away."  
Admittedly, I had teased him by slowing him down, but I had teased myself as well. I was really into this.  
Holding his erection in place, I pushed myself down. It was mostly how I remembered, and nice. Ash seemed to agree, and stuttered a moan.  
"W-woah, hey there, who's impatient now? Go easy on ME." Ash trembled and was all tensed up, but his flushed cheeks and fleeting smirk confirmed that he was all for it. He licked his lips, and gave me a thorough look-over, as if he couldn't believe it.  
"Woah, Dan, this is… real groovy."  
"Well, guess we're having sex now, Ash. Full-on penetration! How about that?"  
"Yeah, wow!" He laughed, and hugged me tightly against his chest. His fingers dragged across my back, no fingernails, no harm, all arousal.  
Me, sitting on top of him, I tried to free myself for actual movement. The only thing I could manage was wiggling back and forth, side to side.  
"Hey, are you gonna let me move or what?" He awkwardly let go. Only his hands on my waist remained, loose and sensual.  
"Sorry. I'm all yours, baby, give me all you got. Do me good."

I raised my hips and pushed them down, tilting my body until I knew I'd hit my sweet spot.  
Ash, moaning underneath me, was entirely made of sweet spots. His crooked smile and his occasional "Right there"s were adorable.  
He was more vocal than any of my ex-girlfriends, so much so that I got scared that Herbert would hear us after all. I tried to cover his mouth with my hands, but gave up before I'd accidentally choke him. It didn't take long before I felt him getting more involved, with or without his intention to. His hips were meeting mine in the middle of the road. He soon held my hips in place, to do most of the movement, and I sure didn't mind. His lips traveled along my jaw and cheeks, gasping against the skin, placing the occasional peck. His eyes were closed in a frenzy.  
"Dan?", he moaned.  
"Yes?", I whispered, urging him to quiet down.  
"Take a deep breath, will you? Yeah, and pucker up!" If I had known how long he intended to occupy my lips, I would've inhaled more deeply.

His voice lost control when he came just a few minutes in; Groaning, screeching, shivering, and finally going silent. Before I could respond to it, and my own lack of an orgasm, he was already pumping my shaft, kissing my jaw, and tightly holding my hand as if he never intended to let go again. His whole body cradled mine, so eager to see me happy too, and I felt safe, and unbelievably aroused. I pressed my behind onto his slackened member, to keep it in and chase the climax. It did take a little while, only barely passing under the "not awkward" mark, but then my body gave in as well. I think I heard Ash utter a little empathetic groan just quiet enough to be covered by mine, and the sheer cuteness of the gesture made me take his face into my hands and place a firm, long, passionate kiss on his lips. As the orgasms had washed over us, we slowly managed to relax into one another. And I noticed how cold a layer of sweat becomes after you cool down. And I stroked his cheeks, leaned my forehead against his, and gently circled my hips to express my satisfaction. When I opened my eyes, I realized we were both grinning like drunken idiots.  
"Dan? I'm positively into gay sex.", he said.  
"No kidding."  
"Yeah, just wanted to give you a heads up."  
"You came really fast."  
"Oooh, shut up. Don't tell anyone, alright?"  
"I'm not complaining. I like you, Ash. I guess I'm positively into gay sex too."  
We rolled to the side to lie down with fatigue, huddling against each other in a warm embrace. We barely managed the kisses in between our tired chuckles.

Then, there was a sudden earthshaking thump coming from downstairs.  
We held our breaths.  
The shock ran ice-cold down my spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing as jarring as writing from the perspective of normality, especially if it only exists to be contrasted with the strangeness of everybody else. But I conquered the challenge, I conquered the voice of Dan Cain, man of mediocrity!
> 
> Fun Fact 1: That Western dime novel Ash grabbed, remember that? "The Adventures of Brisco County Jr" is actually a rather fantastic Western TV series (with Steampunk & Sci-Fi elements) starring Bruce Campbell as the titular Brisco County Jr. In other words: Ash technically read porn about a parallel universe frontier version of himself.
> 
> Fun Fact 2: Romance dime novels are still pretty huge where I live, and the most popular subject is indeed doctors. I see them every time I go grocery shopping, and it's fucking hilarious. Nobody can tell me Dan's look in Bride of Reanimator wasn't inspired by romance dime novel cover hunks.
> 
> Fun Fact 3: The movies Dan had picked were basically every important movie a lovestruck 80s teenage girl would have watched. (They're my mum's favorites.)


	6. The Good, The Date, and the Fugly (part2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan & Ash interrupt their date to go into the basement and check out the strange sounds. They don't only have to face a jealous roommate, but also a whole other level of trouble.
> 
> (POV: Dan Cain)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, everyone. This chapter is a monstrosity, like, wow, what happened with this one. And it will be the only one without porn, pinky promise. We all know PWP: Porn Without Plot, but this is PWP: Plot Without Porn. Please accept some emotional moments and a dramatic plot twist as a form of deepest apology.

I could identify the sound of Herbert dropping a tool by accident. I really could. I could also identify knew the sound of _other_ accidents. But the sound that had come from downstairs fell into neither category. And this alarmed me.  
"You know, since we don't really watch the movie anyway…“, I said.  
„How about, umh, some music instead?"  
I hurried to the stereo and jammed the closest tape into the cassette player, right below the VHS recorder, switched it on and turned up the volume a good deal. And thank god, it happened to be a '81 synthpop tune with a heavy bass. Not only one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands, but this churgling would also drown the ominous sounds from below. The silvery male voice rose above the synthesizer:  
_Sometiiimes I feel I've got to_ THUMP THUMP _Run away. I've got to_ THUMP THUMP _Get away. From the pain that you drive into the heart of me_

"So, you're into the kinda stuff they play on the radio, huh?!" Ash yelled to fight the volume.  
"Well, yeah, but… You know that this is a song from the last decade now, right? It's like nine years old!" I yelled back.  
"Kind of a watered-down version, don't ya think? Have you ever heard the original from '63? Now that's some bangin' music. Got it on a mixtape in my car. I just listened to it on the way here!", he increased his volume even more.  
To place myself in between him and the approximate direction of the unwanted soundscape, I approached Ash, acting as naturally as possible. As if my body made any difference. We had to raise our voices quite a bit to be able to communicate at all. Our awkward grins betrayed that we both noticed and that we mutually agreed to ignore how suspicious that really was.  
_The looove we share seems to gooo nowhere_  
"Oh, you have? I didn't even know this was a remix!" I nervously feigned interest.  
_And I've looost my light, for I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night_  
"Yeah, these guys, umh“ He snapped his finger, trying to remember the band name.  
„They really got nothing on Gloria Jones… Let me just…“ He stood up.  
„...fetch it real quick. From the car." He nervously feigned being interesting.  
"Sure, okay, great!" I nervously feigned being ok.  
I watched him exit the front door. I was too confused, and too thankful, to question why he was in such a hurry.  
_Nooow I know I've got to_ THUMP THUMP _run away. I've got to_ THUMP THUMP _get away. You really don't want any more from me_  
  
I threw on my shirt, to not damage Herbert's state of mind any further, and ran to the basement. I had no time to close the buttons, and he was used to seeing my bare chest anyway. One part of me was afraid that Herbert to have started the ruckus because he knew what Ash and I had done. Another part of me expected him to be in the process of finally getting torn apart by his own, volatile creations. Both options were too likely for my taste.

What I encountered in our basement did not align with anything within the realms of my expectations. What I encountered went beyond all of my understanding of that ungodly substance that was able to resurrect the dead. Because this time, there were no dead 'people' around.  
"Daniel!" Herbert beamed, but so did the bloody machete held in both his small hands.  
"Herbert, am I…" I might have lost a bit of my sanity, and just starting cackling. "…am I hallucinating this? Is this for real?"  
I forced myself to approach my partner, every step down the stairs a challenge in overcoming my gag reflex.  
  
What I saw was walls covered in pulsating, red organic matter, with single patches of fat tissue spreading like white stringy mold. What I heard were hissing and moaning noises coming from that surrounding, and the wet sounds of growth.The red meat wallpaper was throbbing and wobbling in a chaotic rhythm, and the room seemed to shrink by the second.  
"What have you done? Did you use the Reagent on pieces of meat after you've hung them up on the wall?"  
The odor was so pungent that I needed to cover my nose when I finally reached the ground level. It was because of this, that I didn't see what was shaping right in front of my feet, as if to put an obstacle in my way for nothing but comedic effect. I stumbled over a soft, jelly-like spherical shape and fell face-first into an odorous meat mattress. I hoped that Ash wouldn't hear my scream, but the scream came, and it was filled with dread.  
"Dan, I think we should kill them before they've fully formed. I might have underestimated this." Herbert explained, wearing that awry smile he always gets when we're in real trouble.  
He jabbed at the jiggly walls in a Sisyphean task, using only his determination and machete. I couldn't comprehend.  
"Fully here? What do you mean?"  
On turning around, I realized that what I have fallen over was no ordinary slab of meat. These spheres were a pair of human, female breasts, albeit without skin, growing from the floor. Not lying on the floor, no, growing from the floor. To my horror, what followed was a ribcage, an abdomen, and a chin as well, as if there was something rudimentary human emerging from the concrete floor like from a quicksilver pool.

 I heard the cellar door being kicked open (even though it wasn't locked), and heard a familiar voice, accompanied by a buzz of a... powertool, maybe.  
"Alright, step aside everyone! You may be doctors, but only I have the vaccine for Deadite-itis!"  
Ash came just in time to witness the first creature splitting from the floor. I saw my suspicion confirmed: They were human, skinless beings, and they were being born right this very moment. The buzz of the power tool originated from a chainsaw in his hand. Alright, make that a chainsaw substituting his hand. This had gone really weird really fast.  
"Don't you mean medicine? They're already here, after all… Vaccination is a prevention, and that, you failed..." Herbert sneered calmly, as if this was dinner table conversation. Ash skipped stairs to swiftly join us on the ground floor, and smacked his fist into the wobbly meat person next to me, which then went to the ground with a wet groan.  
"Yeah, sure, Einstein. Fact is, you should get out of here fast. These things are way beyond your capabilities, believe me. I can get you out of here safely, this is what _I_ am good at."  
Herbert gave Ash the evil eye, but Ash was too occupied kicking the floor that seemed to fight back.

"Alright, guess it's time for some explaining.“ He said, looking at Herbert, then at the fighting floor, and then at Herbert again.  
„You probably wonder who I really am, huh? I can see why, I mean, some stranger just waltzes into your home and starts dating your pal… and then he's suddenly an expert at kicking monster ass. I see how that's kind of, uh, unexpected." He skidded towards me, sliding an arm around my waist to hold me in a protective grasp. A second being had formed, and they were both approaching us.  
„Yeah, go ahead!“, Hebert laughed. „Do your explaining, I am very curious to see what excuse you'll come up with!“ He kicked the floor.  
"I'm sorry Dan, this is something I wanted to spare you from, especially on the first date!" Ash pulled the starting handle of his chainsaw and threatened both creatures to keep their distance. They only responded with frustrated groaning, but it was a vocal sound alright.  
"Spare me?“ I asked. „I wanted to keep _you_ away from these monsters! Where... where have you seen them before?" Maybe he mistook the reanimated corpses for something else. Maybe there was more truth to Arkham's horror news stories than just the evil that Herbert and I had unleashed onto the city. Or maybe we had caused a more widespread chaos than we knew! And in the end, Ash already knew what he was up against.  
"What? I constantly deal with those bastards. But, uh, how are you connected to this?" Ash didn't seem to consider that we were responsible for the things that happened in our basement. And I wish I wouldn't have to explain.  
Herbert was struggling to move towards us, as the ground had started to swallow his feet.  
„Dan, think about what you're about to say!“ Herbert warned me.  
"You, umh, remember how I said that all my ex-girlfriends have died, right? Well, they've been killed by… the undead." I said, vaguely.  
I grabbed a crowbar from the pulsating ground, using it to fend off the humanoid wads of bleeding meat coming towards us. Ash pressed me tightly against his chest, and interrupted my confession.  
"Well, I've got something to tell you too then. I lost mine the same way. Heck, I even lost friends, and not only lovers."  
Ash guided me towards Herbert, punching and chainsawing these beings out of the way. Herbert was struggling to not get overgrown by organic matter, and Ash helped ripping it away with those powerful, well-trained arms of his.  
"Actually, I haven't been with a chick in a while because everyone kept dying before I could get any."  
I assisted him helping Herbert and started to laugh. My laughter was thin with distress.  
"Well, people usually die _after_ I've slept with them, so I have enough time to get emotionally invested and really heartbroken when they're gone! Guess we have much more in common than we thought.“  
He threw me suggestive grin.  
„So, if your lovers die and my lovers die...", I chuckled nervously.  
Herbert gave me a thin-lipped stare, ignoring the meat crawling up his cheek.  
"I wonder whom of us is gonna die first!"  
It was presented as a joke, but we knew that there was an element of truth in it. Ash smirked confidently and patted my shoulder.  
"Nobody's gonna die tonight, honey, not on my watch."  
He let go off me and grabbed Herbert around the waist. He lifted him out of the being's grip with a powerful tug.  
"Not even you, small guy."  
Herbert's smile was not thankful, but triumphant. Slackly hanging in Ash's grip like a cat, he turned his eyes towards me.  
"Well, well, well. Do you see, Dan? I told you that he's bad news. A man experienced with the undead? Does that sound like a trustworthy partner?"  
"What kind of argument is that, I mean, the more experts, the merrier… especially now!" Ash interjected.  
"It was probably just bad luck, Herbert, much… like… we... had." I hissed the last few words.

The creatures had by now formed into fully human shape. The faces came last, and it was the worst part to look at. They stepped closer with every fabric connecting, and they slowly started to resemble something familiar. Something known. I let go off Ash and slowly, disbelievingly shook my head, when the recognition became fully.  
"Meg?" I said.  
"Linda?" Ash said.  
A loud thump.  
"Herbert?" Both us of chimed.  
  
The tiny body of Herbert had been tackled, on the floor and struggling with the decomposing, violent woman, who Ash apparently recognized as his ex-girlfriend Linda. I couldn't believe my eyes, as I knew that Herbert couldn't possibly have robbed graves on his very own, to re-animate long-dead people. Well, maybe he could. Sure enough, they looked long dead, but I refused to believe it was Megan who was throwing jars and tools off the shelves while growling like a rabid cat that had its vocal cords stretched. Linda was strong enough to lift Herbert onto the operating table- and dived in to slash his throat with her demonically long fingernails. But before I could take even one step forward, he pulled a handgun from his belt and shot her in the face. The bang made her head explode and splatter brain pieces across our clothes. Ash flinched and screamed "Whoah, jesus!", while I just stood there and let myself be showered in blood and guts.

"Did you just shoot my dead girlfriend? With a Pre-War .45 ACP M1911A1 Pistol? Why would you even own that? That's military weaponry!“ Ash boomed, dashing forward with startling violence in his stride.  
Herbert, on the other hand, remained perfectly calm.  
„Oh it's perfectly fine, she was dead before.“, he said.  
He wiped some green milky splatters from his face. It made me wonder just what exactly had gone wrong and just how much reagent these people carried.  
„I know she was, I killed her myself!“, Ash replied angrily.  
Herbert started to giggle maniacally, as if he'd just heard the best joke of his life.  
„Uh, it's not how it sounds!“ Ash interjected nervously. „I had my reasons! She's been like that before, all  
Deadite-like, I didn't kill _her! I didn't kill kill her!_ “  
So murderous psychopaths were becoming a pattern. Well done, Dan. I wondered how deep my fascination with Herbert must go, when I was starting to become one of _those_ men. I saw a startling vision of me as a jailbird-chaser. Those types who regularly visit for a quickie, not capable of any other relationship than a fetishization of the criminally insane.  
„I did not kill kill her!“ Ash repeated.

 Meg traced Linda's neck with her fingertips, when suddenly, an old looking, discolored gash appeared along the invisible line.  
„That's where he put his chainsaw.“ Meg whispered, almost no air to breath, let alone speak.  
Linda's face reassembled with a slurp, making her able to grin and speak again.  
„And we're not talking about the little chainsaw.“ Linda made an obscene motion with her right hand, pretending to shove something into her mouth repeatedly, poking her tongue against her according cheek.  
Meg petted Linda's hair and looked at her with pity and compassion, and for a second I thought I saw my Meg as she were. But then she tugged it back, causing Linda's spine to crack, and her head to tilt without a neck to hold it. I could see right up her thorax.  
„Poor Linda lost her head over that silly boy!“  
She burst into a malevolent cackle that she could've never been capable of. This was different from when I first resurrected her. But not better. Not one bit. This was an intelligent, malicious, supernatural being, and nothing like the Reanimated that I've seen before. This wasn't a mindless violent brute, there was wit and play in their actions. Seeing her be someone else is worse than seeing her be an animal. My stomach twisted into a knot, and I didn't know whom I could turn to for comfort.

„I thought I sent you on a one-way vacation to hell. Stop playing house, girls, you're not human, you're just a bunch of demons in ex-girlfriend wrapping.“  
The women laughed and inexplicably began to touch and kiss each other.  
„But don't we make great girlfriend material, boys?“, Linda teased, grabbing Meg's chest.  
They used more and more tongue, teeth and open-mouth. They mocked us with exaggerated moaning. Herbert moaned too, but tiredly, rubbing his temples with an impending headache.  
„I'll be the mommy and you'll be the mommy!“ Linda laughed between slobbers.  
„And there'll be no daddy or kids to leave you hanging for their job or another woman!“ Meg added and kissed her again.  
„Or other men, right baby?“ Linda added, nodding towards Herbert and giving her a wink.  
He sneered in arrogance, and shoved Ash forward.  
„Come on, don't get distracted... you wanted to show us how to destroy them, didn't you?“  
I was unable to comment on the spectacle.  
„Oh I'm not distracted. I like girl-on-girl action like the next guy. But they look like our friends! Come on! Doesn't matter if they're dead now, doesn't matter if we used to be intimate. Like this, they don't get to have a saying in whether they would have wanted us to see this. That's all sorts of disrespectful. You don't go around sexualizing your friends, especially without their consent!“  
Ash stepped forward.  
„Also, I'm really not into the whole decomposing zombie sex thing.“  
They broke away from each other and burst into laughter. They cringed and bent with laughter so manic it seemed to overpower them. There was no control in their motions whatsoever. I threw Ash a confused glance.  
„What's so funny about that?“ I whispered.  
Ash's face became deep red, up to the tip of his ears.  
„What are you implying, huh? Are you implying I'm a Deadite fucker, is that it? Shut up! That's not how it is!“  
„If you were one of us, you could fuck everything all the time... men, women, deadites, the dead... animals, if you're into that. No boundaries.“ Meg said.  
I swallowed back vomit. I was hunched into a sorry traumatized pile. Herbert put a hand on my shoulder and petted me, but when I wanted to grasp his hand, he drew it back.

Ash took a heroic stance, a deep breath and started his chainsaw.  
„I'll say it again: I'll never join you! And playtime stops now!“  
When he went for Linda, she screeched and dodged aside.  
"Ash, am I really the right person to attack?" Linda wheezed heavily.  
"Person is a mighty strong word, honey." He started the power tool attached to his arm, and jabbed towards her chest. She split her upper body to dodge the attack without moving to the side. That, apparently, was something she could do. I wondered what the hell Herbert had done with the reagent, to cause speaking and body-morphing people.  
"The small one here is trying to tear you and your new boyfriend apart, he's told us, in long, long detail…" She nodded towards Herbert. He flung his machete towards her and hit her neck, just above the clavicle. She looked at it with mild confusion, made a little gurgling sound, shrugged, and just let it in in there.  
"He did what? Well, I expected that, but not… with means this drastically?" Ash asked, looking back and forth, from Herbert to Linda.  
"Wait, hold on a second, just when did he tell you? You have just appeared! Just look at you, you're not even all the way there, you don't even have skin yet. Not that you ever bothered with clothes, anyway…"  
"He told us while he summoned us…" Linda purred.  
I had no idea what was going on, and I was thankful that threre was a suspension of hostility, even though the walls grew closer, and Meg did too. Maybe Linda's reanimated corpse had chosen the word 'summoning' for reanimation, simply because she had no scientific understanding of her return.  
But what surprised me even more was that Ash did not ask how we brought them back.  
  
Instead, he threw himself to the ground and started shuffling across the meaty floor. He was shoving boxes aside, looking into shelves, behind shelves, opening drawers- And turning his back towards her inspired Linda to attack. He dodged and rolled around to avoid being hit, but his focus was not on her.  
"What are you doing?", I asked. When I approached them, Linda turned, lifted into the air, and hissed at me. I tightened the grip on my crowbar and raised it to my defense.  
"Ash, I think- I think I have to explain something-"  
He disappeared under the operating table and re-emerged with a look of victory in his eyes.  
"I can't believe it!" He proudly raised a book above his head. It was leathery, and with unfortunate wrinkles, which seemed to form a distorted, demonic face. If you were macabre enough to see it there (which I have become, with Herbert as my roommate).  
Ash turned towards Herbert, and his expression of joy turned into an expression of rage.  
"You little bastard! You're gonna get us killed! How did you even get this? Why? To get rid of me? Come on, that can hardly be all, unless you're secretly one of _them_."  
"One of whom?!" I asked, unheard.  
"Do you see the way he holds the book, Dan? Like his dearest treasure! And you know why? Because this is what he's come to Arkham for."  
As an Antique's hunter, that wouldn't even be unlikely. I turned to Ash with a questioning look.  
"Well, yeah, I came here to get the book. So what?", he said.  
"Your friend Ash made your acquaintance because you're a student of Miskatonic University, Dan.“ Herbert began to explain.  
„This book was in our library, and only students and employees were allowed to rent it, if they've been signed up long enough. Hasn't he taken up a job just the other week? He wanted to skip the waiting and make you get the book for him… and then, he planned to drop you."  
"Aw come on, now that's just silly. The last part is totally made-up.", Ash said.  
"But the rest isn't?“ I asked. „What do you need the book for?"  
"As a grimoire, this Necronomicon seems to cause such demonic manifestations every now and then…“ Herbert continued.  
„And honestly, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it happening in front of my very eyes. I refuse to believe it's 'magic', but I can't explain just what it is yet…"

Ash jumped in.  
"Okay, first, it doesn't 'cause' them to appear just like that, somebody's got to have read the lines in the book. Somebody summoned them! And that was you, I mean, they just said it! So I don't know who's in the more compromising situation here, pal… I don't know what weird type of relationship you two have, but summoning demons can't possibly be justified."  
Ash was right. But sadly, I wasn't surprised at all.  
"Herbert, this is going too far.“ I said.  
„Your experiments are one thing, but… I don't even know what to think of this! What this even is!" I gestured towards the pulsating meat walls and skinless ex-lovers.  
"I have asked around at university, Dan. I did a bit of a background check on your little date mate. And reliable sources have informed me about his connection to the Necronomicon… so to save you from him doing anything strange with it, and to reveal his bad intentions, I took it myself. And then I may have... lost control of it."  
"That damn Beatnik chick! Already dead and still causing me trouble!", Ash said.  
"What?" I was utterly confused.  
"Uh… I can explain, it all makes sense when you know the whole background."  
"A criminal, mentally unstable cultist background?" Herbert mocked.  
"Hear me out, please Dan.“, Ash said.

„These creatures are called Deadites, and they're some type of demon trying to plunge the world into darkness and enslave, or kill, all humans. I am the Chosen One, I need to stop them. That's my thing. I only kill Deadites, but for anyone not introduced, it looks like I'm just slaughtering confused, violent people. But I'm not! This is self-defense! You can't believe how horrifying it is, to have to kill another human being, and more often than you like, it's something that looks exactly like somebody you used to really like or even love… It's not a fine life, but it's something you get used to, because you have to. I never chose this, and I would give it up right away, if I just _could_."  
  
"This will sound weird, but… I know that feeling, Ash.", I said.  
"You… what." There was so much pain and confusion in his eyes that I wish I could hug him instead of bashing creatures with a crowbar to make sure none of us got harmed.  
"I don't know if we've met the same creatures, but I have seen that there is more between heaven and earth than just humans and animals. There are beings that make us question our very nature. I have seen humans that weren't humans at all. And I, well, I wasn't-…"  
Herbert jumped in, grabbing my arm with a despair that I only ever see when he's afraid of losing my support.  
"Dan, you don't have to tell him!"  
"But I _want_ to, Herbert, I _really_ do. I don't want to keep this a secret from everyone."  
"But…he won't understand."  
Ash considered the masses of ex-lovers wobbling about and gave a sneer.  
"As long as you're not telling me that your necrophilic necromancers, nothing can shock me. No, actually, not even that would shock me. I would probably be even fine with that. Yeah, I can see the appeal of undead zombie lovers, real sturdy and kinky folks, even though this whole 'ripping you apart and swallowing your soul' deal is not quite up my alley."

We realized that there were more than 2 creatures around by now. Ash took a step back and bumped against an especially big one. I heard something behind me, but when I turned to haul my weapon at them, it turned out to be a whole army.  
"Wait, this one has no tits. And... junk. That's a man. And I don't know him!", Ash said.  
Everybody searched for the answer in the face of everyone else but it was I who had to give the answer or remain silent. I gave a noncommittal shrug.  
"I never said I've only been with women, did I?"  
I recognized his face, but that wasn't even needed. He was taller than me, stout, and had been on the football team. A quarterback. He had died 2 years ago, in an uncompromising accident with a bottle in uncompromising areas. His guts had been sucked out by the vacuum as a drunken friend had tried to get it out.  
"Meet Jackson, my boyfriend when I was 19." I smiled awkwardly.  
And the undead came closer.

"Joiiin us…" Meg whispered.  
"Joiiiin us!" Jackson drawled.  
"Join us, Dan…" Ash's ex-girlfriend Linda caressed my chest. Ex-human she was too, very frighteningly so.  
"Join us, Ash…" Ash was surrounded by every single partner I ever had, and well, six were enough for surrounding somebody.  
"Sorry Dan, but your exes are a matter of the past. And dead too. I can't let them haunt you! Or me! Or our relationship!"  
He was really campy sometimes. Without hesitation, Ash smashed his good hand into Cathy's face. His knee jerked up to slam into Jackson's groins.  
"Time to let go and move on!"  
Jackson, a towering hunk of meat, grabbed Ash from behind and lifted him off the ground.  
"Well this sure is unfair, why did you have to date such a beefcake?!" Ash complained, helplessly flinging his arms to get free.  
"Look at yourself and consider my tastes, Ash." I said, swinging my crowbar at Jackson's weak knees. It didn't help, so I pleadingly looked at Herbert. He rolled his eyes, but nevertheless joined me and shot at the creature's legs. Thus,his footing gave in, and Ash and him landed on the floor with a wet thud.

The undead around us inched closer and closer, and for every whack of the crowbar, I got a new distortion that did nothing to stop them. It only caused a sight that frightened me even more. Nothing about their motions was natural. Ash slicing a few into bite-sized pieces did nothing to stop their movement. Despite our chainsaw, revolver and crow bar, we were still entirely helpless and overpowered.  
I had seen before how detached body parts moved on their very own, entirely refusing to abide to the rules of biology. I had seen how science beyond our understanding took on a form not unlike magic, and I had practiced how to accept what I couldn't understand without going insane at the mere sight. I was still not prepared for former lovers with all limbs in odd angles, partly hacked into pieces, dying once more, moving in pieces, living once more. Every single fragment jiggled maliciously, wobbling towards my feet.

"This is not gonna end until they burn." Ash screamed at us, even though we were all back to back.  
"We have to burn them. Trust me, this is one thing I know how to do: Destroy these suckers."  
Herbert and I gave each other a critical, uncomfortable glance, and we knew we both agreed. We had no better plan than to trust his words.

We assembled ethanol, matches, and a mad will to live. Ash, Herbert and I, we ran and kicked and tackled the meat wads, and soaked the interior, and set the house on fire on our way to the front door. Throwing objects and hauling furniture captured our pursuers long enough to make them catch fire too. There were screams behind the closed front door, when we finally managed to get out, screams of anger and death from the people I once loved, and people Ash once loved. This sound would haunt me for a while.

"In the end, nothing but ash remains." Ash punned, pulling me tight against his chest. The heat scorched my cheeks.  
"Maybe we should wait a moment until we call the fire department. We've gotta be sure that the fire gets them all.", he said.  
"Sorry about your home."  
My home stood aflame, and the grip of Ash felt pleasantly cold in contrast to the heat of destruction.  
When the realization hit me, the coldness took over in a violent shiver and lost all appeal.  
  
"Where is he?"  
I scanned the surroundings, but there was nobody around, not at this late hour. Literally, nobody besides Ash and myself.  
"Good god, Herbert is still in there!"  
I pushed Ash away to go for the flames.  
"Ah, jesus!", he groaned.  
He grabbed my upper arm and tugged me back. But instead of telling me to let abusive Herbert die in the flames, or telling me to stay here and stay safe, he cut in before me, and dived into the red waves. He didn't flinch when the flames licked at his face, his determination knew no pain. I followed instantly, far, far less dignified, and stumbled forward, jerking my arms in front of my face, in desperate defense of the bodiless enemy.

What I arrived to was Ash chainsawing around Herbert like a delicate cut-out picture, freeing him from sentient, burning, screaming goo that I identified as also 'undead'.  
The scorching heat made me unable to see or think clearly, and the thick smoke pushed into my lungs. I wasn't sure if the smoke wasn't a vaporized demon, as it did the part all the same.

I saw Herbert crawl away from the things that had glued him to the wall, and I saw the goo cover Ash's arms and legs instead. He screamed a battle cry, as far as I could judge from what reached me amidst the deafening screams of the fire and melting demons. His eyes were milky and his face looked burnt- 2 to 3 degree burnt- but he ripped the flaming lumps off his arms as if he simply swatted flies.

The ceiling started to give in, and powder and gobbets of cement dust crumbled down on him. The ceiling bulged, and dust became a shower of dry mist, the ceiling bulged more, and I could see a plank loosing footing, right above his head.  
I took a deep, fatal breath of smoke to have enough air to scream a warning- but everything went black before I could. The heat, the demons, the struggle of my friends, everything mellowed into indifferent black. I had passed out before I even hit the ground.

I woke up to my closest friend tapping a syringe filled with a bile-yellow fluid, with a faint glow that that paled juxtaposed to the bright bonfire next to us.  
The shock kicked me right back into adrenaline-filled consciousness, and made me slap it out of his hand.  
"Herbert, NO! Did you…?" Checking the virgin bends of my elbows bore the answer to my concern, visible underneath already rolled up sleeves.  
"I was just about to, because you were passed out I panicked I wasn't sure whether you were in a coma or needed some adrenaline and I didn't have adrenaline on me so I thought the reagent would have the same effect and I was just so very concerned-" His words merged into one nervous babble, and he didn't do anything to indicate that he'd stop on his own.  
"Herbert, I'm alive!", I interrupted "You're alive! I'm so happy that-"  
After years of conditioning to expect the same person bringing you back from blackouts, memory might not make immediate usage of itself if the situation arises. It might need time to gather all recent short-term memories and integrate them into awareness. Memories such as that it wasn't only us two that evening. Memories that there was, again, somebody missing.

"Wait, where's Ash?"  
Herbert met my eyes with an intensity that was too grand for emotional specifics. It made my voice grow louder in confusion.  
"Where is Ash, Herbert, where has he gone?"  
His brows slowly knitted into an expression that might have been regret.  
"I saw just as much as you did, Dan. When you had passed out from the smoke, I did my best to drag you out of danger, and…"  
I seized his lapel and shook him violently.  
"You left Ash in there? Did you or not? Is Ash still in the burning house? The burning house, Herbert?!!"  
Herbert awkwardly adjusted his glasses with his middle finger. It was impossible to have them sit right anymore. The frame was bent, and one lense partly melted.  
"H-he was buried under posts that had broken down, burning posts Dan!, I could hardly move one of them, let alone when they were burning-…"

I lifted myself to sit on the concrete pavement, my head slumped, my eyes stinging. I hid my face behind hands that have been yet again unable to save me from what has been haunting me. Ever since I've witnessed our first deceased return to life, crippling fears of losing my loved ones have been haunting me. Visions of undead creatures tearing them away from me, and tearing them apart. The worst part was the shrieking, repeated, unescapable reality of it. Everyone I love dies, and it's always my own fault.

Herbert approached me from behind, the resentful, paranoid me heard it all to clearly. He placed his hands on my shoulders.  
"Dan…"  
As he received no reaction, he slid his hands further around my neck, embracing me loosely. It almost felt like a human gesture, if I didn't know that he was staging it.  
"Herbert. I can't go on like this. How many good men and women are we supposed to sacrifice? How many?"  
He embraced me tighter, burying his face in my neck.  
"You're going to find new friends, Dan. In our current society, your qualities count as very desirable for both, friendly and romantic liaisons."  
"That's not it."  
"You can substitute friends, don't worry about that." He chuckled and smiled, but there was an edge of despair in his voice.  
"What you can NOT substitute is work partners with a specialized knowledge. But hey, look, we're both fine, this is a best case scenario. Well, as good as it gets."  
Of course that's what he would try to cheer me up with. Unfortunately, we did not share the same views on our fellow peers and their purpose in our lives.  
  
"You're such a cold-hearted monster, do you know that?" I chuckled too, now, but dripping with sarcasm.  
"I feel so sorry for you, Herbert, and for your inability to see usefulness outside of professional co-operation. Yes, we choose our affiliates according to their benefits for us, but this goes far beyond your limited idea of 'specialized knowledge' that can be harvested from otherwise purposeless bodies."  
He didn't say anything to concur.  
"It must feel very lonely, surrounded by meaningless collections of organs, flesh and bone."  
"In death, we are all the same.", he said vaguely. "And that's where he is now."  
He held onto me, because that's what you do for comfort and Herbert knows these things, but he seemed as uninvolved as I was. There was an ache in my chest, because all I ever wanted was him to be involved, no matter what gesture he would need for it.  
  
"So what is the usefulness you had hoped to receive from him? I'm sure we can arrange something to take care of it. I'm here for you. What would you say about a… 'social day' once a month?"  
He sounded utterly disgusted.  
"I can… go shopping, play sports and watch movies, too, technically, if that would please you…"  
"Thats not the only thing that I'm missing." I shook my head, knowing he wouldn't understand. Almost feeling ashamed for being so utterly human, compared to him.  
"It can't be the women you're missing, as a man seemed to be perfectly sufficient now, too." There was a hint of jealousy in there, but not for the reasons one would assume.  
"This isn't about sex or dating. Do you really think that this is all I need? I must seem like such a libidinous pervert to you, seriously, if that's all you see."  
"I didn't... say that."  
"I need human warmth, Herbert. I need love, friendship, family. Affection, connection, genuine feelings."  
"Well. I'm sure I can find something to substitute-…"  
"DON'T you even dare to think about inventing something to dull this sentiment! Don't you dare!"  
This was getting pathetic. I knew he wouldn't understand. And I started to question myself, what I had seen in our friendship in the first place.  
"Maybe you should work on finding something to spur your own humanity!"

Out of spite, I pulled his hands off of me, like leeches that have been sucking too much blood. Leeches that had the intention of healing, now draining the patient.  
"Maybe you would finally realize what you're doing. This is insane. You are insane!"  
He switched sides to throw himself in front of me, kneeling as if in prayer. He took both of my hands into his.  
"I am doing a great deed for mankind's progression. You have seen the beauty in it. You have been so in love with the idea when we started out, Dan. Where has that gone to?"

We saw a wooden post fall down engorged in violent flames, the howling house decomposing in front of our eyes.  
In it, a loved one, doing the same.  
This was my life.

"I'm moving out."  
He stared into my face, shaking with fear and indignation.  
"Yes, I know, you don't want to hear it, but you need to. I am not capable of carrying this burden any longer. Do you see this, Herbert? Do you see this in my eyes?"  
He stared harder, and only his eyebrows twitched in flashes of despair.  
"This is a look of a man who's borders have been crossed one too many times."  
His lips twisted into an ugly scrawl. I felt my face relax into the distanced sarcasm that was usually so home to his.  
"I. Am. Moving. Out."  
"But Dan-!!!" He looked almost like crying, if I didn't know that he wasn't capable of it.  
"No, you've heard it the first time. Take care."  
  
Herbert was rendered speechless. So speechless that his compulsive mind didn't even remark that you couldn't technically move out if there was no home left to move out of.  
But he got the idea. He powerlessly grabbed for my pant leg as I turned to walk away, but he let go, he got the idea.


End file.
